c 
 
 HARVARD COLLEGE 
 
 CLASS OF 1895 
 
 BACCALAUREATE SERMON 
 
 BACCALAUREATE HYMN, CLASS DAY ORATION 
 
 CLASS POEM, IVY ORATION, ODE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
 Press of Edward W. Wheeler 
 
 1895 
 
HARVARD COLLEGE 
 
 CLASS OF 1895 
 
 BACCALAUREATE SERMON 
 
 BACCALAUREATE HYMN, CLASS DAY ORATION 
 
 CLASS POEM, IVY ORATION, ODE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
 Press of Edward W. Wheeler 
 
 1895 
 
I 
 
 CLASS COMMITTEE. 
 
 WINTHROP AMES. 
 THORNDIKE SPALDING. 
 JAMES PURDON. 
 
 C/ass Secretary. 
 ALBERT HARDING NEWMAN. 
 
 
Baccalaureate Sermon. 
 
 BY WILLIAM LAWRENCE, D. D. 
 
 Isaiah LI: I. " Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteous- 
 ness, ye that seek the Lord : look ufito the rock whence ye are hewn." 
 
 This is an appeal to the past. 
 
 The prophet was trying to arouse the people to higher ambitions 
 and a nobler life. He had reasoned with them, had spurred them 
 with a fear of God's judgments, had fired them with a glimpse of 
 the future and of the promises to those that seek the Lord. And 
 then, in the text, he struck their sense of honor and loyalty by 
 an appeal to the past. Their history though checquered had 
 been honorable. Their father, Abraham, in the spirit of faith 
 had migrated to the west and settled in a new country. From 
 small beginnings they had grown to be a great people. Illustri- 
 ous names crowded their annals, faith and patriotism were the 
 watchwords of their fathers, deeds of chivalry were celebrated in 
 their songs. It was of such stuff that they were made, of such a 
 history that they came forth, therefore the prophet felt and had a 
 right to feel that an appeal to the past would rouse in them the 
 noblest ambitions. " Look unto the rock whence ye are hewn," 
 is his cry, " and unto Abraham your father." Such an appeal is 
 the privilege of those nations that have behind them a long and 
 noble history. Other peoples have their sources of inspiration, 
 new countries have the great stimulus of youth. But this is one 
 of the privileges of honorable years. 
 
 Men of the Class of Ninety-five, you are gathered here this 
 afternoon to catch some fire from off this altar and to carry it 
 with you through life. In a few days you will pass out the 
 college gate and, with happy memories of Harvard in the back- 
 ground, your thoughts will be intent on the future. I might try 
 
to strike the several notes of the prophet : I could tell you from 
 the lives of some of my own college mates of how God's judg- 
 ments do fall upon those that seek unrighteousness, — the sermon 
 caught from a few unhappy and cursed lives would speak 
 stronger words than any prophetic warnings. You would 
 respond with eagerness to an appeal to the future and to the 
 rewards that come to them that seek the right. But my sole 
 appeal to-day is to the past. I want to lead you to a study of a 
 few of the early principles of Harvard's history and thus to a 
 few of the principles of what I think should be a Harvard man's 
 character. 
 
 And I am the more glad to take this line to-day because there 
 is growing up a feeling among many even cultivated people, that 
 a university can be created without a history, that large funds and 
 wise management may accomplish for a university in a few years 
 all that centuries of history can do. That there is an element of 
 truth in this, we all agree. That certain studies and scientific 
 researches are not dependent upon historic surroundings and 
 a rich atmosphere of culture is true. But if a university has for 
 its work also the development of the whole man, growth in culture 
 and the encouragement of the humanities, then surely historic 
 associations, a noble lineage, ancient memories and an atmophere 
 enriched with generations of culture have their great influence. 
 And it is from these often that the student gains his noblest aspira- 
 tions. Let us look then unto the rock whence we are hewn. 
 
 As the freshman just arrived from his distant home, first passes 
 through the college gate, he reads upon the wall a legend which 
 strikes a new note in his life. 
 
 "AFTER GOD HAD CARRIED US SAFE TO NEW ENGLAND AND WEE HAD 
 
 BUILDED OUR HOUSES, 
 
 PROVIDED NECESSARIES FOR OUR LIVELIHOOD, 
 
 REARED CONVENIENT PLACES FOR GOD's WORSHIP 
 
 AND SETTLED THE CIVILL GOVERNMENT, 
 
 ONE OF THE NEXT THINGS WE LONGED FOR 
 
 AND LOOKED AFTER WAS TO ADVANCE LEARNING 
 
 AND PERPETRATE IT TO POSTERITY, 
 
 DREADING TO LEAVE AN ILLITERATE MINISTRY 
 
 TO THE CHURCHES WHEN OUR PRESENT MINISTERS 
 
 SHALL LIE IN THE DUST." 
 
It is a voice from the past, from "New England's first fruits." 
 For several years the student lives within the associations of 
 the college ; the very buildings are living voices of men long dead, 
 the trees whisper of ancient memories, the atmosphere is full of 
 history. And then, as in yonder Theatre he takes his degree, 
 his eye catches the Latin legend above him and in reading those 
 lines the last note of his college life is struck. 
 
 "HERE IN THE FOREST-GROWN 
 
 UNCULTIVATED LANDS, 
 
 ENGLISHMEN EXILED FROM HOME, 
 
 IN THE SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR AFTER CHRIST'S 
 
 BIRTH, 
 
 IN THE SIXTH YEAR AFTER BRINGING THEIR COLONY HITHER, 
 
 THINKING THAT BEFORE ALL ELSE THEY OUGHT TO CULTIVATE WISDOM 
 
 FOUNDED BY ACT OF THE PEOPLE A SCHOOL, 
 AND DEDICATED TO CHRIST AND THE CHURCH THIS THEIR FOUNDATION 
 
 WHICH BEING INCREASED BY THE BOUNTY OF JOHN HARVARD 
 
 AND BY LOVERS OF LEARNING HERE AND ABROAD CONTINUALLY HELPED 
 
 AND FINALLY ENTRUSTED TO THE LOYAL CARE OF ITS CHILDREN, 
 
 FROM A SMALL BEGINNING BROUGHT TO A MIGHTIER GROWTH 
 
 BY PRESIDENTS FELLOWS OVERSEERS AND FACULTY 
 
 WITH COUNSEL, FORESIGHT AND CARE, 
 
 TO THE BEST ARTS, TO VIRTUES, SOCIAL AND PERSONAL, 
 
 HAS GIVEN AND STILL GIVES CULTURE. 
 
 THEY THAT BE INSTRUCTED SHALL SHINE LIKE THE GLORY OF THE 
 
 FIRMAMENT, 
 AND THEY THAT EDUCATE MANY TO RIGHTEOUSNESS 
 LIKE THE STARS FOR CEASELESS ETERNITIES." 
 
 In the light of these two inscriptions let us gather together a 
 few of the elements which inhere in the foundation and history of 
 Harvard and see how they appeal to our sense of duty and privi- 
 lege. " Dedicated to Christ and the Church this their foundation." 
 
 The one feature that stands out in the beginnings of this col- 
 lege is the deep religious spirit. Whatever opinion one may have 
 about the function of religion in a university to-day, there is no 
 question as to what its position was in the early history of the 
 college. 
 
 It was not a mere coincidence that our Puritan fore-fathers 
 happening to be men of strong religous conviction and also of 
 English University education founded a college in the sixth year 
 of the colony. 
 
The Christian religion is at the basis of our civil as well as 
 educational institutions. Christ and His Church are necessarily 
 and essentially the patrons of culture, the inspirers of education 
 and the founders of colleges. There have been times when the 
 church has been recreant to her trust; but history has shown that 
 in the long run and considering the contemporary conditions she 
 has been faithful. The past has shown us that with religion at the 
 basis of our civilization, culture will be sustained, sound learning 
 encouraged and character upbuilt. But we have had no assuring 
 evidence from history or from modern life that without Christ and 
 His Church, character will remain true and strong, sound learning 
 be upheld, or culture sustained, pure, deep and ennobling. 
 
 Possibly this sounds commonplace and conventionally sermonic. 
 But it is a commonplace which occasionally needs repetition, for 
 one hears now and again from men whose whole lineage is full of 
 Christian saints and whose character is saturated with the Christian 
 prayers, hopes and theologies of their fathers, that Christ and His 
 Church, having done their work must now give way to the ascen- 
 dency of culture, reason and ethics. 
 
 Granted, however, that such men are not representative, but 
 rather the results, of an over-ripe culture, there is a great body of 
 men of education, true, high-minded and of Christian ideals, who be- 
 lieve that Christ and His Church are at the basis of our civilization, 
 who sympathize with Christian truth, who feel that ideally the 
 Church is the stronghold of the highest type of character, but who 
 do not practically turn hand, voice or life to the sustaining of the 
 Church of Christ to-day. 
 
 We hear that the theology is out of date, that the average relig- 
 ion is Philistine, that the worship is crude, that the ethics are out 
 of perspective, and that the Church lacks in intelligence, in force, 
 and in character. 
 
 Perhaps it is so ; it may be that the critics are right. But I 
 know of no more ignorant critic than a busy man who gets his 
 theology from the newspapers and reviews, his Christian ethics 
 from the reading of ecclesiastical controversies, and his knowl- 
 edge of the work from emotional exhorters, and who never goes to 
 the original sources, — Christ and the Church itself. 
 
 What then the Church needs, even if the criticism be only par- 
 tially true, is the loyalty and devotion of men of culture, men who, 
 
by refinement, will keep the Church from Philistinism, by openness 
 of mind will save her from narrowness, and by singleness of pur- 
 pose will keep her true to her high aims. 
 
 Do not understand this as an appeal for more ministers, — not 
 that. I simply want to say that when you leave college and get to 
 work in your calling and settle in your home, there will be various 
 other interests that will claim you, clubs, professional and social 
 and political duties ; but there will be one institution in the town 
 that has somehow outlived all others, an institution that has sus- 
 tained the ideal of the Christian family, that encourages education, 
 inspires character, upholds the brotherhood of man, and has the 
 charm of charity, — the Christian Church. It needs you, your per- 
 sonal interest, your sympathy, your correction and your life. And 
 you need it ; for without it and what it represents you will be in 
 danger of sinking into professional Philistinism yourself, into the 
 heavy commercial spirit or the ordinary educated machine that 
 makes money, turns it over, spends some and leaves the rest, with- 
 out having left the uplifting spirit that Christ reveals to us. 
 
 One can speak of this with the greater confidence in the shadow 
 of Harvard, for by her charter and traditions the College stands 
 with open face and clear eye towards the truth. 
 
 The founders of this college had their deep convictions ; much 
 of their theology is not our theology, but they had such confidence 
 in Christ as the truth and in His Church as the interpreter and 
 friend of the truth that they bid the college go on in the search 
 for truth, knowing that rightly conceived, every discovery of truth 
 in every department of knowlege would lead to the glory of Christ 
 and His Church. 
 
 Men have sometimes tried to set the final interpretation of 
 Christian truth in one or another century, in the day of Athanasius 
 or Luther or Calvin and to close the interpretation of the scrip- 
 tures then. Our fathers in the college seal laid the Bible wide 
 open to the light of all centuries and across it wrote the legend, 
 " Veritas:' 
 
 The truth is the test of thought and life here. Whatever 
 faults Harvard may have, she is sensitive to the spirit of truth. 
 With patient, unflagging devotion and the keenest enthusiasm the 
 student reaches out for the truth. 
 
8 
 
 That same spirit follows the son of Harvard through life if he 
 be true to the spirit of his college. In the interpretation of 
 the law and the defenee of his client, the advocate seeks no mean 
 or technical success, but the truth ; in the church the minister 
 desires not first to defend his own position, but to know what is 
 the truth; in politics the legislator or the voter thinks not first of 
 party success and popular legislation, but what is on the whole in 
 the name of and for the cause of the truth ; in the intricate social 
 problems the citizen's chief concern is not the protection of his 
 own interests, the strengthening of his own prejudices or the 
 defence of his own class, but what on the whole will lead men to 
 the truth. Of you as well as of those whose names are written in 
 yonder Hall, Lowell speaks in his Commemoration Ode : 
 
 "Those love truth best u> ho to themselves are true, 
 And what they dare to dream of dare to do." 
 
 Another characteristic stands out from the legends with which 
 I began this sermon and from the history of the college. " Founded 
 by act of the people," — the college was the creation of the whole 
 community. From the General Court she received her charter 
 and financial aid and through it she was governed. The college 
 never has been nor can be separate and distinct from the people 
 or their dearest interests. Public spirit moves through her as the 
 winds from the surrounding country sweep through her elms. 
 The pulse of the people can be felt here and the movements of 
 the nation anticipated. 
 
 How suggestive is the letter of one of the Fellows of the College 
 in the early years of the Revolution : w The young gentlemen 
 have already taken up with politics. They have caught the spirit 
 of the time. Their declamations and forensic disputes breathe 
 the spirit of liberty." 
 
 It is not without its meaning to us that under yonder elm 
 Washington first took command of the American Army and that 
 the Massachusetts Legislature, driven from the State House by 
 the cannon of the British troops, met in the College Chapel, 
 or that the College, having waited for a century and a half before 
 conferring the degree of Doctor of Laws to men outside her own 
 number, selected George Washington as the first to whom the 
 
honor should be given. Or, to take a later scene, in the early 
 days of the Civil War in 1861, the diary of the treasurer of the 
 college tells of how he used to come to Cambridge at eight in the 
 morning to drill the " College troops." A large fraction of that 
 company of students which marched around the college yard were 
 within three or four years found dead upon the battle field and 
 their names are written on the tablets in Memorial Hall. 
 
 The community has given the college man the privileges in 
 which he glories ; the college man rejoices in the opportunity to 
 serve the community. Public spirit finds a home in the college. 
 
 You have already anticipated my application of this thought, — 
 your duty in public service. The upturning of crime and degra- 
 dation in our greatest city suggests a form of action, and in that 
 our brethren of the Alumni have been in the van. There, however, 
 the worst feature was not the crime of trie criminal or the degra- 
 dation of already degraded office-holders, but the lethargy of the 
 city, the silent abetting of the crimes by masses of intelligent people, 
 the selfishness of business men and householders who would rather 
 bribe than have their peace disturbed. We have yet to learn that 
 every citizen has his public duty. 
 
 But my thoughts to-day are in quieter lines. Many of you are 
 not going to the largest cities, but to the smaller ones, to towns 
 and villages. Degradation in a mass is easily recognized, but 
 when scattered through smaller communities is unnoticed. The 
 elements that exist in New York are in our towns and villages, 
 varied of course in extent and depth ; the crime is there, also the 
 degradation and the lethargy. Pure, true, unselfish and loyal 
 citizenship is needed throughout the country as well as in the city. 
 Back in the country roads vice lurks and purity waits long for 
 succor. Each man's duty is nearest to his hand. 
 
 There are two other suggestions that I want to make in the 
 application of public spirit ; they are simple but I believe that 
 they are timely. 
 
 Upon our common school system democracy stands. That the 
 children of this republic receive the foundation of an education 
 and gain the elements of a firm character is essential. Because 
 the public schools are concerned with the rudiments of education 
 and with children, the sentiment has sometimes gone abroad that 
 
IO 
 
 any sensible, average American can undertake the responsibility 
 of our schools. The public schools have therefore in a few large 
 cities fallen into the hands of politicians and the institution on 
 which our public safety depends has become the football of 
 political parties and ward-room deals. In many of our smaller 
 cities and towns the management of the schools has been given 
 to men who, however worthy as average citizens, have not the 
 refined, sympathetic or cultured qualities which enable them to 
 meet the demands of the best education of children. To the 
 public school system the American people have given themselves 
 with marvelous devotion ; where there has not been the highest 
 skill there has been at least the greatest self-sacrifice. Serious 
 and mature experience are showing us that in the education of 
 children of the tenderest years is needed the nicest skill, the 
 deepest culture and the richest imagination. There is, therefore, 
 a call to-day upon the public spirit of university men ; that wher- 
 ever they may be, and into whatever profession they may enter, 
 they feel a responsibility for the common schools, and by work 
 and sacrifice do their part in strengthening our republic at its 
 foundations. 
 
 My other point is a very different one. This nation has, we 
 believe, a great and peculiar mission in the history of mankind. 
 It is not a nation formed for conquest or for colonization. The 
 condition of nations in Europe and the East, with their great 
 standing armies, exhausting the country, eating up the people's 
 earnings, creating mutual suspicion, is enough to make angels 
 weep. That w r ith all our civilization, arts, culture and religion 
 the people of this nineteenth century have not reached a higher 
 point of national comity and mutual confidence is a marvel. 
 Much has been done in the last half century. Much remains to 
 be done. 
 
 It becomes the educated men in America to use all their influ- 
 ence in keeping this nation to her high purpose, that of giving to 
 the world the example of a people, united, free, self-governed and 
 skilled in the arts of peace. 
 
 Let each man do his part towards checking the spirit of jingo- 
 ism and insolence towards other nations that occasionally dis- 
 graces our national councils and that appeals to the passions and 
 
II 
 
 self pride of the people. Let each man also do his part towards 
 encouraging a spirit which will make our relations with other 
 nations those of honor, self-restraint and peace. 
 
 Men of the Class of Ninety-five : By a few suggestions of the 
 past I have tried to help you see a few of the duties of the future. 
 For generation after generation this college has received from the 
 community, its officers and alumni, untold gifts, the fullest devo- 
 tion and the richest sacrifice. 
 
 You now stand to the University as its last, and we trust, its 
 richest fruit. Here you have dreamed dreams and have seen visions. 
 For the most glorious of these dreams and the loveliest of these 
 visions you will be held responsible. If you should fail of your 
 higher purposes in life, you will not be able to fall back upon the 
 excuse that the highest ideals have not been given you, for they 
 are yours now. What you will do with them, remains for your- 
 self to answer. 
 
 In the days of King Charles the First, a young man of the 
 English middle class took his degree at the University of Cam- 
 bridge. Although no book records it, we know that he must 
 have had visions of high duty and privilege. He was only a 
 humble minister and weak in body, but he was also as one of his 
 contemporaries writes, " a godly gentleman and a lover of learn- 
 ing." His vision of duty carried him to this land. Amidst the 
 poverty and hardships of the day, he had before him the vision of 
 a greater people ; and as he became weaker in body, the dream 
 and memories of his old University at Cambridge must have 
 beckoned him to a greater opportunity. The little community 
 in which he lived was planning the foundation of a college. To 
 it the young minister gave his thought and prayers ; and dying, 
 John Harvard left to it his library and half his modest fortune. 
 
 While the memory of that life hovers about this place, the men 
 of Harvard will have an inspiration to live up to their highest 
 visions. 
 
 " Look unto the rock whence ye are hewn." Look unto your 
 fathers, and take courage, and may God be with you. 
 
Baccalaureate 1b?mn» 
 
 HERBERT HILARION YEAMES. 
 [To be sung in unison to the tune of Duke Street.] 
 
 God of our fathers, by Whose hand, 
 Led step by step since time began, 
 
 Toward one high end divinely planned 
 Are shaped the destinies of man; 
 
 Though clogged by weakness, folly, crime 
 The course of life has been, must be, 
 
 We trust that all shall reach in time 
 The consummation aimed by Thee. 
 
 Though such our trust, more faith we need, 
 More light through earth-born mists to shine, 
 
 More strength the cause of good to speed, 
 More love, O Lord, for Thee and Thine. 
 
 Be with us then as we depart 
 
 To join the ranks of struggling life ; 
 
 Thine inspiration guide each heart, 
 
 Thy help be with us through the strife. 
 
 May we, here favored to receive 
 Such blessings, others also bless; 
 
 For only thus may we achieve 
 
 The highest joy, the best success. 
 
 We too would consecrate our youth, 
 And tread the path our fathers trod, 
 
 To fight for freedom and for truth, 
 To live for man and live for God. 
 
Class 2>at> Crercises, 
 
 JUNE 21, 1895. 
 
Oitfei 1 of Etoci^ in j&qdei^ Tfjeatre. 
 
 ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 THE REV. FRANCIS G. PEABODY. 
 
 EDWARD HENRY WARREN, 
 WORCESTER, MASS. 
 
 CHARLES MACOMB FLANDRAU, 
 ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. 
 
 11(0) u 11 
 
 ivy 
 
 WALTER KIRKPATRICK BRICE, 
 WASHINGTON, D. C. 
 
 9l(^o 
 
 CARLETON ELDREDGE NOYES, 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
 
Class Oration. 
 
 edward henry warren. 
 
 Mr. Marshal, Classmates, and Friends of the Class : 
 
 During the last quarter of a century the attention of the public 
 has been drawn, as not before, to the growth of Harvard as a 
 University. It has been made evident that those in control had 
 conceived an ideal of a complete university and that they were 
 making powerful and persistent efforts to raise every department 
 to that ideal. Schools in theology, in law, and in medicine 
 had, it is true, long been in existence, but both in their oppor- 
 tunities and in their requirements they have undergone a revolu- 
 tion. Less than twenty-five years ago in the Law School, for 
 example, a two years' course of study was offered, but the 
 different subjects were taught only in alternate years, so that 
 which half of the subjects a student pursued first depended 
 on the chance of his entering in an odd or an even year. Strik- 
 ing as have been the changes in these schools, long recognized 
 both here and in Europe as proper parts of a university, growth 
 has not been confined to them. A Scientific School, after many 
 anxious years adrift, has at last rested on solid ground ; novel 
 departments have been created, still subjected to keen and not 
 altogether serious criticism, but alert and active, opening new 
 territory to scientific learning ; the Observatory and the Museum 
 have taken their places among the great centres of research ; and 
 a Graduate School has been established, so rich in provisions 
 both for investigation and for training, that much significance has 
 been added to the description of Harvard as the chief seat of 
 learning on this continent. 
 
 But in all this, what of the College ? It is plain that the atten- 
 tion bestowed on these rising departments must have meant a 
 reduction in the relative amount of attention which it had been 
 the policy of previous administrations to bestow upon the College. 
 It is easy to draw the inference that the College, which for 
 
i6 
 
 generations has held the first place in the estimation and the 
 affections of the people, has been neglected in the interests of the 
 other departments of the University. How far is this inference 
 justified ? Have the constructive, transforming forces, which 
 have done much for other departments, been of much avail also 
 for the College ? Has the College been allowed simply to develop 
 further towards ideals long followed, or have the old been 
 condemned and the College adapted to new and more adequate 
 ideals ? These are questions not quickly to be answered. 
 
 Under the theocracy of the Puritans, the College owed its ex- 
 istence to the theologic want of the people. This was not because 
 the Puritans were a narrow sect : the universities which sprang up 
 in Europe during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had like- 
 wise a theological character. It was the sentiment of the age that 
 the most worthy object of a higher education was to fit young 
 men to defend certain theological beliefs. Trace education back 
 as far as we can, and we find it associated with the class of men 
 called priests, those whose part it was to inquire into the mean- 
 ing of man's life, into his relations with the material objects 
 about him, with the men who were his fellow creatures, and with the 
 vague something that was felt to be the creator of all. And we 
 find that these men, at first concerning themselves with all these 
 relations, tend to confine themselves to inquiry into the relation 
 of man to creator, touching indeed the other relations, but for the 
 most part treating them as so subordinate as safely to be left 
 to the experience of every day life. And as inquiries into this 
 most important relation resulted in different answers, the exclusive 
 devotion of higher education to religious matters was intensified. 
 Men now fell into dread, not only lest they should be but little 
 informed, but lest they or their children should be wrongly 
 informed. What more worthy, then, than to train young men to 
 lead the community in a way free from error ? 
 
 Such was the thought of the Puritans, and they framed their 
 college course according to it. Latin, the traditional language of 
 the Church, was to be mastered before entrance. In college 
 more than a third of the time was spent upon the original 
 languages of the Bible, nearly a half was devoted to theology, and 
 logic and rhetoric treated as servants to theology ; natural science 
 
i7 
 
 was practically unknown, no profane literature was studied, even 
 in philosophy ethics soon fell into the background and disputatious 
 logic held foremost place. It was far more like a modern theo- 
 logical school than a modern college, — in fact it was not con- 
 sidered necessary to have a theological school, distinct from the 
 college, till as late as 1815. 
 
 The Puritans are entitled to respect for their courage and self- 
 sacrifice in making provision for any higher education in the dis- 
 tress of their circumstances, but it is evident that such a course 
 as they framed was inadequate. It may very possibly have trained 
 excellent Puritan ministers, but, even in the first century of the 
 College's existence, more than half of the graduates did not enter 
 the ministry. These men do not seem to have been much con- 
 sidered ; the studies must have been distasteful to them while in 
 college and have proved of little profit in after life. And as the 
 zeal for theological training flagged, the inadequateness of the 
 course grew increasingly plain. The authorities felt that some 
 change must be made, and they decided to give freer play to the 
 influence of the Renaissance. It is a paradox that the college 
 which for generations required its students to speak only in 
 Latin while in the college yard should have paid comparatively 
 little attention to the classic Latin authors as late as 1750, and 
 should have regarded the introduction of Caesar's Commentaries 
 at even a later date as an event worthy of record. Latin, as 
 favored by the churchmen, and Latin, as favored by the scholars 
 of the Renaissance, were quite different : the churchmen thought 
 the ability to write and speak in Latin was indispensable because 
 this had been the usage for centuries ; the scholars of the Renais- 
 sance thought acquaintance with the classic writings in Latin and 
 Greek was invaluable because it cultivated a taste for beauty. It 
 had long been an ugly world and, now that the aesthetic sensibil- 
 ities were once more quickened, expressions of the beautiful fas- 
 cinated men. Education under the scholars of the Renaissance 
 became a synonym for instruction in Latin and Greek. It is not 
 unjust to charge against them that their influence tended to the 
 exclusion of all other subjects of study so that Latin and Greek 
 should be uncramped. 
 
 It was to this influence that the governing boards of Harvard, 
 while retaining much of the old theological training, decided to 
 
i8 
 
 give freer play. The men who were graduated a hundred clas 
 ago had received an education in which both the theological and 
 the classical ideals had had influence. They had been given 
 solid religious instruction and had been well trained in logic and 
 declamation ; they knew a great deal about the works of the 
 classic authors of Rome and Greece, and the languages in which 
 those works had been written ; they had studied a little about 
 metaphysics and political law, and had been obliged to attend a 
 few lectures in history and botany. Of geography and arith- 
 metic they knew less than does the lad of to-day who enters a 
 High School ; in English they had received all their instruction 
 at the hands of the professor of Oriental languages ; and some 
 of them might have studied French, but only if they had thought 
 it more important than Hebrew. 
 
 In many ways this course was worse adapted to the time than 
 the theological training had been to its time. The theological 
 training had, indeed, given exclusive attention to a single line of 
 inquiry about the relations of man to the universe, but it had, in 
 its way, attempted to solve the problems of life. The Renais- 
 sance made no such attempt. The thoughts of the classic 
 authors were admitted to be ill-adapted to modern needs, — it was 
 not the thoughts, but the form of these thoughts that was held 
 dear. The object of education became not intellectual inquiry, 
 but intellectual polish. So highly was this polish prized by the 
 classical humanists that they disregarded the fact that to only a 
 few men would such polish be more than a very small force in 
 their lives ; they were not troubled because their system resulted 
 in an extreme cultivation of the memory to a neglect of the 
 other faculties of their students' minds ; and at a time when 
 modern society was shaping new institutions and even when 
 modern inquiry was growing rich with discoveries in natural 
 science, they kept aloof, dreading to be disturbed from their 
 worship of ancient languages. 
 
 Spite of all this, their influence upon education has been im- 
 mense and is by no means yet spent. In 1862 an educational 
 commission in England reported that they found the curriculum 
 in the preparatory schools practically unchanged from that which 
 had been framed under the influence of the Renaissance, and 
 
*9 
 
 the curricula in American colleges of the present time have un- 
 mistakable evidences of the influence of the Renaissance ideals. 
 
 Such a condition of affairs as this would never have been 
 allowed had the community given its higher education close 
 scrutiny, but the best energies of the community were absorbed 
 in other interests and the higher education was taken none too 
 seriously. Men were, on the whole, content if their sons were 
 taught the usual things, and it thus became the proper thing for 
 young gentlemen who had the means to enjoy a higher education 
 to know Latin and Greek. These studies were not supposed to 
 be of much use to them in the activities of their lives ; they were 
 rather regarded as fashionable accomplishments, and fashionable 
 accomplishments do not depend for their existence upon their 
 usefulness. 
 
 And the hands of those who upheld Latin and Greek were 
 also strengthened because it was not quite plain what should be 
 done with the young men if they were not taught Latin and 
 Greek. Many sensible persons who were not blind to the defects 
 of the classic curriculum clung to it because they knew not 
 whither to turn. Discipline became the watchword. The ability 
 to do distasteful work was loudly commended. Mathematics 
 were put to greater service. And yet, as if conscious of their 
 weakness, instructors preferred to lighten the stress laid upon 
 the curriculum. Masters of the great schools in England have 
 said that the value of the training came not so much from the 
 intellectual work which they guided as from the tone of the 
 schools and the discipline of the great games ; and in this coun- 
 try, also, one of the professors at Yale University has recently 
 made a similar plea for that institution. 
 
 Out beyond these forces, which had sprung from the thought 
 of past centuries, we are swept upon new forces whose limits we 
 cannot see and whose power we tremble to estimate. There is 
 vastness and tumult as of an ocean. New interpretations of truth 
 and duty had found voice, and could not be silenced. The spirit 
 that had been the life of the Reformation did not die at its close. 
 The suspicion spread that the accepted truth might not be the 
 essential truth. Formerly men had been told that certain doc- 
 trines were the truth, and had believed because they had been 
 
20 
 
 told, but once that they had become dissatisfied with the telling 
 and demanded to inquire for themselves, all doctrines were put 
 to new tests. If the old doctrines had been untrue, what proof 
 was there that the new doctrines were not also untrue? Inter- 
 pretations of truth multiplied ; churches became sects, and sects 
 became factions, the members of every faction still confident that 
 they had grasped the essential truth and that all those who dif- 
 fered from them were hugging error. 
 
 Could there be but one result of all this ? The time came 
 when the truth looked very large and the factions looked very 
 small. Thoughtful men had it forced home upon them that it 
 was absurd to suppose that any of these factions had seen the 
 whole truth. Who, then, did know the truth ? Men saw that 
 they were in the midst of a universe the beginnings and the ends 
 of which were hidden beyond the horizon of the highest intelli- 
 gence to which they had attained. 
 
 It was this realization of incompleteness that made the nine- 
 teenth century. The questions of what man is and why he is 
 did not cease to be asked ; the old answers were not believed but 
 new answers were sought. Men had, before, tended to confine 
 their inquiry to the relation of man to creator, because it seemed 
 to them that this relation comprised all others and from an 
 understanding of it could be deduced the others. They sought 
 to know the whole, confident that thus they would know the parts. 
 But now they saw that the attempt to gird the whole truth was a 
 failure. They saw that the whole truth would not be known 
 through the work of one class of men, or of one age, or even of 
 one earth. It was only possible to learn about the parts, and 
 from this partial knowledge to gain insight into the complete 
 truth. Thus it came to be that the inquiry of man concerned 
 itself with his relations to the material things and to the fellow- 
 men that were close about him. The effect of the old concep- 
 tions had been to stifle investigation ; the essential truth being 
 known, what need for further search ? With the new concep- 
 tions, however, the search for truth began in earnest. Human 
 reason set to work to prove all things and to hold fast only that 
 which was good. A powerful interest in the present was gener- 
 ated. Men felt it to be a formative time, and were eager to learn 
 
21 
 
 about the discoveries and conceptions of men near to their gen- 
 eration, and to be able to communicate to them their own dis- 
 coveries and conceptions. From these activities resulted an 
 increase of knowledge that changed the earth more in a hundred 
 years than it had changed before in a thousand. 
 
 But increase in knowledge was not the only effect upon edu- 
 cation of this revolt from the rule of authority. The revolt had 
 been inspired by the belief that knowledge of the truth could not 
 be monopolized by a few men. It maintained the right of every 
 man to be heard ; it put its confidence in the wisdom of all indi- 
 viduals rather than the wisdom of a few select individuals. It 
 thus became the means of giving to the capacities of the masses 
 something which approached adequate recognition. And these 
 capacities, once considered, were discovered to be rich with pos- 
 sibilities. To make these possibilities actual became the purpose 
 of men like Rousseau and Pestalozzi. New things were asked 
 of education. Formerly the masses had been given only such 
 little education as would enable them to take their places in the 
 fixed order of things, much as in India and China to-day popular 
 education is nearly equivalent to instruction in the usages of the 
 castes. Now the fixed order was giving way. Opportunities 
 were opening to the masses. Education must look not to the 
 fixed order, but to the opportunities. Individuals were not to be 
 taught to adapt themselves to definite conditions ; they were to 
 be fitted to rise to better conditions. The best ability was recog- 
 nized to be adaptability ; not learning, but development became 
 the ideal of education. 
 
 And more. As the many rose in power, the tolerance of class 
 distinctions diminished. Men began to look askance at such 
 education as held its place largely because it was the customary 
 evidence of social position. Scrutiny has grown keener. The 
 people no longer stand open-mouthed even before the higher 
 education, regarding it as something akin to the supernatural, 
 justified by its own fineness, out of relation to the struggle of life. 
 They demand that it shall not be simply a luxury for leisure, but 
 shall be a power for activity ; they are willing it should give 
 grace but they insist it shall give strength ; they are not satisfied 
 that the best education shall produce only men who are orna- 
 
22 
 
 ments to polite society, it must produce men who are forces in 
 the community. 
 
 Exposed to such influences the old systems were doomed to 
 founder. Harvard had won her prestige when theological and 
 classical ideals were followed ; could she hold it now that inves- 
 tigation was taking the place of dogma, that power as compared 
 with polish was assuming large importance, and that the devel- 
 opment of individuals, involving the difficult task of a wise recog- 
 nition of diversities, must be attempted ? It is a great mistake 
 to suppose that the College adapted itself to the new forces quite 
 as a matter of course. This adaptation meant a revolution, and 
 revolutions were distasteful to the Faculty. Seventy years ago, 
 the Corporation and Overseers had provided for some limited 
 choice of their work by the students, but they had been obliged 
 to do so against the judgment of the Faculty. When knowledge 
 was being multiplied all could not be imparted. Unless much 
 was to be ignored, choice would have to be allowed. Made 
 inevitable on this account, choice was also desirable as an aid to 
 development. Yet under such conservative control was the col- 
 lege that when, five decades ago, an elective system which gave 
 large recognition to these conditions was first put into operation, 
 in timidity it was soon abandoned, and Jared Sparks, then Presi- 
 dent of the College, said that it had been given a fair and patient 
 trial and soon had fallen into disfavor. If the College authori- 
 ties were blind, the community was not. Complaints began to 
 be heard that Harvard was fast losing her prestige, and was 
 becoming simply a High School for a portion of the youth of 
 Boston and its vicinity. And this was only fifty years ago. 
 
 With the opening of the new era which followed the Civil War, 
 it cannot be doubted that Harvard was in a critical situation. It 
 was to be a period of material prosperity, and rich resources were 
 to be available for progressive institutions of learning. Harvard 
 for forty years had shown little facility for adaptation : the elective 
 system was still in abeyance ; the large attention given to the study 
 of ancient languages had been little diminished ; Shakespeare 
 was not yet considered worthy of a place in the curriculum ; and 
 the only mention of any study of political economy in the cata- 
 logue of thirty years ago is made under the head of religious 
 instruction. 
 
23 
 
 In the years that have followed, great changes have been made. 
 Students have been given guarded but very large liberty in adapt- 
 ing their work to their individual needs. While there has been 
 a heavy increase of courses in all departments, comparatively 
 the ancient languages and mathematics have lost ground. The 
 number of members of the Faculty devoted to modern languages 
 and to the natural and political sciences has been quadrupled. 
 And these changes have proved themselves to have been in the 
 main made in accordance with the needs of the times. In all 
 branches where there has been a relative decrease of courses 
 there has also been a decrease in the attention given by students ; 
 and with the single exception of natural science, where there has 
 been a relative increase of courses the attention given by students 
 has also increased, and even at a faster rate. Though less than 
 half of the courses are now in the modern languages and political 
 science, nearly two-thirds of the students' work is devoted to them. 
 The most noticeable growth in the number of students is, more- 
 over, from those sections of the country where the elective system 
 has not yet been developed ; and, though the list of students in 
 the whole University has been trebled, the regular students of the 
 College form to-day very nearly the same part as they did in 1869. 
 
 It is not too much to say that the last twenty-five years have 
 seen Harvard College not neglected, but guided toward new ideals 
 with such boldness and wisdom that those years are the most sig- 
 nificant, as they are the most successful, it has known. 
 
 It is striking that the one exception to the parallel in the relative 
 increase of courses with a relative increase of interest shown by 
 students should be in natural science. President Eliot was trained 
 a chemist. A few months before his election he had written one 
 or two magazine articles which emphasized the value of scientific 
 training. In many quarters there was fear less the natural 
 sciences should assume altogether undue importance under his 
 administration. Opportunities for the study of these sciences have 
 indeed been multiplied; nearly a fifth of the courses which may 
 be counted for the degree of Bachelor of Arts are devoted to them ; 
 in the admission requirements, also, they have been given large 
 and unaccustomed recognition. And yet the regular students in 
 the College show relatively less interest in them than they did 
 when his administration began. 
 
2 4 
 
 It would be rash to conclude that science has but a small place 
 in a liberal education. The impartial, patient, earnest search for 
 truth which results in science is one of the most precious products 
 of modern conceptions, and can ill afford to be given a small place 
 in any education. But natural science is only one part of science : 
 there is a science of men as well as of nature. The methods of 
 inquiry which found their readiest application to nature have come 
 to be used also in inquiry about man. History, economics, ethics 
 are seen to be sciences. In philology and even in art scientific 
 methods are not unknown. 
 
 The slight attention paid to the study of natural science has 
 quite a different import. It indicates that young men seeking a 
 liberal education still prefer those studies in which man is the 
 central figure. When science was forcing its way into the curri- 
 culum the lovers of the humanities cried out that it would dull 
 the spirit of students by diverting their attention away from the 
 achievements of the human spirit to the observation of forces in 
 which the will of man is no part. Yet the later result of the 
 introduction of science has been, not to abandon the study of 
 man, but to undertake it in new ways. 
 
 And the scientific study of man affords a needed corrective to 
 the ideals which young men are apt to conceive while in college. 
 The study of the humanities gives ideals, — excellent in them- 
 selves, but without any sure connection with present conditions in 
 the world. They are apt to be conceptions of what the world 
 ought finally to become, of what should be the goal of progress. 
 They are so far removed from the actual world that, between, 
 there seems a great gulf fixed. Men who hold such ideals see 
 that the present is bad, but how to adapt it to their ideals they do 
 not see. By decrying the present, without offering any practical 
 way of improving it, they simply estrange men from them and 
 from their ideals. They put themselves out of joint with their 
 generation ; the generation seems hopeless to them, and they 
 seem worthless to the generation. 
 
 Ideals not based upon an understanding of the actual can only 
 by chance be effective. Science builds upon the actual. It traces 
 the advance of mankind step by step ; it inquires into existing 
 conditions ; it feels the pressing needs of the time ; it sees the 
 
2 5 
 
 next step which men are fitted to take and its ideals are concerned, 
 partly with the goal of progress, but chiefly with this next step in 
 progress. It is such ideals that the community will follow. Men 
 who conceive them are of inestimable worth. They point out the 
 bad, but they also point out the possible good ; they are eager for 
 the future, and yet they do not spurn the present ; Colossi, they 
 firmly span from the old to the new. 
 
 The lovers of the humanities, nevertheless, had some reason 
 on their side when they dreaded the entrance of science. Science 
 as it is at present has a strong tendency to make the world seem 
 a grinding necessity in which everything happens because it could 
 not have happened otherwise, and in which men act but are in 
 reality compelled to just such actions by forces out of their 
 control. The humanities bring home afresh to man his possibil- 
 ities and responsibilities. Science observes from the world point 
 of view ; the humanities, from the individual's point of view. 
 They inspire a man by showing him how the human force in 
 individuals akin to him has aspired, struggled and endured. They 
 quicken his own sense of power. He feels the virtue come into him. 
 He is made eager for activity. He sees himself as one of the 
 forces in the universe, not simply an effect of other forces, but a 
 force in himself, cause as well as effect. Without this conscious- 
 ness of possibilities and of responsibilities men lack character. 
 They allow their bad inclinations free play. The preparation 
 which their education has given them they misuse. Like bathers 
 come to a beach, they do not plunge into the surf, but are content 
 to idle upon the sands. It is a sad state. Men are alive for 
 great purposes ; an imperfect world has ?ieed of them. In 
 the fact that the world is imperfect and that we have a power 
 in us which can make for perfection lies the reason for our 
 existence. He who lets that divine power rust in him unused 
 loses the dignity and the glory of life. 
 
 There is no sufficient reason why any graduate of Harvard 
 should have either ineffective ideals or a low conception of the 
 part he has to do in the world. There is no other college in 
 this country, at least, which offers such rich opportunities for 
 preparing men to avail, and to avail for worthy ends. The 
 men who rightly use these opportunities find opened to them 
 
26 
 
 the world's inheritance of knowledge, — the conjectures, blunders 
 and discoveries of other men. They gain insight into the laws 
 according to which the forces of the world act, and with the 
 known laws they go forth armed against the unknown facts they 
 will encounter. 
 
 And more precious still, their view is broadened. They see 
 things in just proportion, are made balanced in action, tolerant in 
 judgment. They become conscious of themselves as parts of a 
 great whole, and see that the development of that whole is of 
 concern to them. It may be that in after life they do not heap 
 up the most material wealth, but they have gained interests which, 
 drawing upwards, lend buoyancy to their lives ; they find them- 
 selves useful and respected among men ; and they are solaced in 
 all circumstances of life by a sense of kinship, slight though it 
 may be, with those rare men to whom has been given of the 
 wisdom of eternity, on whom has been spoken the benediction of 
 the universe. 
 
 There is a community with noble things possible at Harvard. 
 Here are associated hundreds of young men who are moved by 
 high ambitions ; here are spent the labors of many of the most 
 earnest and high-minded scholars of the age ; and who is there 
 that has not been touched by the pure fame of Harvard's dead ? 
 
 The Harvard life means very different things to different 
 students. Our interests have been diverse. Yet no one of us 
 but will feel in after life a union of interest with every other 
 member in the class. Harvard has given us the four years which 
 will probably be the most formative and inspiring of our lives. 
 She has done much to make us men ; her sons, proud and 
 grateful to be her sons, we shall bend together in reverence and 
 in love to her, — Harvard, Alma Mater. 
 
Class fl>oem, 
 
 CHARLES MACOMB FLANDRAU. 
 
 This summer day that ends an episode, 
 The song, the feast, the resolute intent 
 To clothe regret in terms of merriment, 
 
 For all my flippant numbers gloom forebode. 
 
 Why came I to this place, and why have you 
 
 Showered gifts upon the stealthy years that seemed 
 To tiptoe past us while we lived and dreamed ? 
 
 What have we done, or even failed to do ? 
 
 Like birds that, circling in the cloudless air, 
 Whirl clamourous upon a quiet field, 
 But, sheltered in the tranquil green things, yield 
 
 To all the cool, sweet influences there, 
 
 We found a fertile spot where everyone 
 
 Has harvested — some beating out the grain 
 That others might enjoy a glinting rain 
 
 Of chaff, or dress their plumage in the sun. 
 
 Nobly deluded youth that sought to wring 
 
 From bloodless books the knowledge that is power 
 Until the yellow cresset in the tower 
 
 Flared pale before the sun-gate's opening ; 
 
 And you, small scriveners, that dare to ply 
 Your little pens, and are so fond to think 
 'Tis mirrored in a drop of feeble ink 
 
 How fellow-creatures love and live and die ; 
 
28 
 
 And you who battle more with men and less 
 With arid words ; to whom Antaeus gave 
 His charm, and bade your lion hearts beat brave 
 
 Beneath that great Olympic restfulness, — 
 
 Yea, every one whose sheltered years — now gone 
 With all the eager tumult of their youth — 
 Are numbered in the moments that make Truth 
 
 Young, vigorous and fair to look upon. 
 
 What memory, with meanings infinite 
 Of better lives and simple happiness, 
 Shall thrill dead days, and dim to-morrows bless, 
 
 Or flood a sunless hour with heaven's light ? 
 
 Search — you that have them — in your hearts, and you 
 Shall find some names, as on an altar, there, — 
 Dear names, that even Time himself may spare 
 
 To bring new joy to generations new. 
 
 When in the wind the last frail lantern sways, 
 
 And then blows flaming from the shrivelled stem, 
 We'll seek our friends that we may say to them 
 
 Before we start on our divergent ways : 
 
 I am beholden for what life is worth 
 
 To the fair days on which God gave you birth. 
 
11\>£ ©ration. 
 
 walter kirkpatrick brice. 
 
 Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen, Classmates : 
 
 "'The time has come,' the walrus said, 
 •To speak of manj things; 
 Of ships and sails and sealing-wax, 
 Of cabbages and kings.' " 
 
 When I undertook the responsibility of delivering the Ivy 
 Oration for this year, I did so with a light heart. I remember it 
 was a beautiful autumn day, and Class Day seemed so very far 
 away that it never occurred to me that it would really come, and 
 — well, I didn't exactly know what an Ivy Oration was. The 
 year has passed away, and Class Day is here, and I still don't 
 know what it is. This ignorance does not, I assure you, arise 
 from any lack of interest on my part. I have made careful in- 
 quiries about it from those who might be supposed to know, but 
 with most unsatisfactory results. Some informed me that an Ivy 
 Oration had nothing to do with ivy ; others, that it wasn't really 
 an oration at all. This was encouraging, but it scarcely ex- 
 hausted the subject. One to whom I applied said he didn't 
 exactly know what it was, but it was something humorous ; but 
 when I consulted a former victim of this same spring trap in 
 which I find myself caught, he told me it was no joking matter. 
 On the contrary, he said, it was serious — to a degree. 
 
 I have finally come to the conclusion that if there is any joke 
 at all, it is decidedly on me. From a careful study of the card- 
 catalogue in the library I am convinced that somewhere in this 
 broad University there is a large volume explaining fully the 
 origin, nature and use of the Ivy Oration, but either my prede- 
 cessor has thoughtlessly failed to return it, or it is now stacked 
 along with all the other books for which there is a crying de- 
 
3° 
 
 mand, in the basement of AppletOl) Chapel. In the absence of 
 any specific information, I am compelled to say, with Mr. Car- 
 roll's walrus, that " the time has come to speak of many things/ 1 
 and I may add, to avoid saying anything. It is a time for look- 
 ing into Ninety-five's record dwelling on its pleasant features and 
 ignoring its unpleasant ones, after the manner of an epitaph or 
 a filial biography. My remarks must, therefore, be in the nature 
 of a reminiscence of what has been said and done at various 
 times and places, a rehash of what we have known before, - — a 
 veritable Memorial dish. 
 
 Whatever impressions we may have received during our col- 
 lege course, whatever the varied opinions we may have held since 
 Phil. I first taught us to think that we thought, there is one 
 which has remained paramount and impregnable throughout all 
 that time, — the impression that there never was such a class as 
 the class of Ninety-five. Not only have we ourselves felt instinc- 
 tively our potential greatness, but our worth has been attested 
 by other classes. Ninety-four, which came to scoff, remained to 
 wonder at our precocity. Some of them have been so hypno- 
 tized by the brilliancy of our career that they have abandoned 
 their own class and have remained to graduate with us. And 
 can it be questioned that much of Ninety-six's apparent superi- 
 ority is due to the presence among them of an inspiring element 
 from Ninety-five? 
 
 Let us then look back over these four years and see what has 
 caused this great difference between our Freshman picture and 
 the one taken just the other day ; let us see what Harvard has 
 done for us and in just what way we have caused this startling 
 improvement in the University. 
 
 Our first impression on arriving in Cambridge was that we were 
 welcome. For two hundred and fifty years they had been waiting 
 for us, and at last we had arrived. Everybody exerted himself 
 for our convenience. Mr. Sawin met us at the train and kindly 
 looked after our trunks. Mr. Paine told us just what furniture 
 we should need for our rooms. The Faculty gave us a reception 
 in Sanders and the Sophomores gave us another reception in the 
 yard. Even the foot-ball captain invited us personally to come out 
 and join his team. And how grateful we were for all these little 
 
3 1 
 
 attentions ! What a great man we considered Mr. Foster! And 
 even now what tender memories we have of the French department ! 
 
 From the very first our infant fancies were delighted by the 
 wonderful expansiveness of the elective system. While we were 
 still wandering about in a sort of dreamy Freshman wonder as to 
 where we were at, the information was tendered us, by means of 
 an Office postal, that we were on probation. Whereupon we 
 temporarily abandoned Sanborn's, hastened to our own rooms, 
 lighted our student lamps, and buried ourselves in the depths of 
 the ki Elements of Rhetoric," and Ploetz's " Epitome." Our lit- 
 erary taste was developed to such an extent that we soon learned 
 to detect unaided the elusive humor of Jane Austen, and thereby 
 we succeeded in passing English A. Ever since that time, "Jane, 
 fane, has never been the same." 
 
 Our first united effort toward quelling Harvard Indifference 
 was received with extreme coldness. Amid the rattle of musketry 
 and the roar of cannon, and with a tremendous outburst of class 
 enthusiasm, we vanquished Ninety-four on the Jarvis diamond. 
 And yet, because our triumphal march through Memorial Hall 
 disturbed the President of the Crimson at his evening meal, our 
 performance was termed hopelessly fresh — and Ninety-two was 
 inconsiderate enough to carry off the championship. 
 
 In spite of the cold-water remarks of upper classmen, we per- 
 ceived this spirit to be a good thing, and in the next year the 
 crew of the Ninety-five boat proceeded to push it along. If there 
 was anything left of Harvard Indifference by this time, it received 
 its death-blow at our Junior dinner. In the astounding success 
 of that occasion and the enthusiasm there displayed, we left a 
 glorious example for succeeding classes to follow — and accom- 
 plished the financial ruin of our Ninety-six class treasurer. 
 
 It was about this period that we made a great discovery. For 
 two years we had been struggling to unravel the intricacies of the 
 pamphlet of courses — a work which is to the uninitiated as 
 hopelessly unintelligible as one of the Dean's charades. We 
 could not understand why it was that while we were ruining our 
 constitutions by attending nine-o'clocks, and fretting our young 
 lives out in all-night grinds for Mid-years and Finals, a blase set 
 of our companions revelled in three recitations a week, and used 
 
32 
 
 the examination period as a kind of extra vacation. It all became 
 clear to us, however, when we discovered the w Snap-Hlinb 
 Pathfinder," a key to the pamphlet of < ourses. By a careful 
 study of the algebraic symbols used in this little tract, we were 
 soon competent to discern at a glance the real merits of a course 
 described in the pamphlet. Tor instance, a star before a course 
 denoted-: Good course; one recitation a week ; no exams and no 
 attendance taken. A dagger implied : Instructor docile ; no pre- 
 vious experience necessary for working him. Whereas, a heavy 
 underline meant: Thiscourse is one without which no college 
 man's career is incomplete. I Jut for this useful little tract we 
 might have failed to appreciate the liberal education involved in 
 a study of Semitic History or of Botany. We might have neg- 
 lected to enroll in Latin 10, and so missed the opportunity of 
 learning how Greek girls did up their back hair. And our purely 
 American poetic imaginations might never have been stimulated 
 by the carefully adjusted Hellenic smile that illuminates the 
 courses in the Fine Arts. 
 
 It has been our lot to witness the abolition of some old customs 
 as well as to assist in the inauguration of several new ones. 
 There seems to be little doubt that Bloody Monday, with its 
 accompanying traditions as to Freshman punches and Sophomore 
 rushes in the Yard, is a thing of the past. And now that it is 
 certainly dead the question naturally arises : Who killed it ? As 
 for the punches, the answer is, I am afraid, only too apparent. 
 The Faculty, with startling unanimity, decided that they had too 
 long neglected the children, and that ice-cream, with all its terrors 
 of poison and sudden death, was far better for their little diges- 
 tions. As for the rush, — with all due respect to the prowess 
 of the Yard policemen in suppressing the Weld Glee Club, and 
 checking Freshman base-ball enthusiasts, We must again express 
 our acknowledgments to the French department. In the words 
 
 of the song : 
 
 " I," said the fly, 
 " With my little red tie, 
 I killed the rush." 
 
 But our disappointment over this lost tradition has been 
 lessened by the institution of two new offices. We now have a 
 
33 
 
 Regent who possesses the unhappy faculty of calling upon us 
 when we are confined to our rooms by a severe and sudden 
 illness and invariably finding us out. We have also a Medical 
 Adviser who has wonderfully simplified the science of medicine 
 by the revolutionary discovery that all diseases are really one. 
 This scientific truth is exceedingly comforting, because, in case 
 of any feeling of sickness on our part, we always know just what 
 is the matter with us. We may think we perceive symptoms 
 of toothache or water on the knee, but we realize on second 
 thoughts that what we really have is measles. 
 
 Many new buildings have sprung up during our stay here 
 which have done much to adorn the campus and furnish material 
 for lectures on the expression of the beautiful. Ware Hall has^ 
 become the home of Freshmen and subscription fiends. Much- 
 heralded Claverly, having burst upon the f academic world in 
 a meteoric blaze of glory, has subsided again into a state of 
 quietude which is only broken by an occasional afternoon tea. 
 It is noted for its remarkable tank system, and any one who has 
 been admitted into its exclusive circle by its aristocratic baron, 
 may be considered to be fairly in the swim. This innovation 
 has so far awakened the progressive spirit of the college that 
 an addition is now being made to the gymnasium, a conspicuous 
 feature in which is to be a bath-tub. 
 
 There is another structure whose recent completion has caused 
 a great stir, and much architectural criticism by men who couldn't 
 tell a basilica from a bicycle, or a campanile from an Adelina 
 Patti. And yet in the face of this adverse criticism, no champion 
 has appeared to defend it and proclaim its merits. It is quite 
 unnecessary, however. The Fogg Museum blows its own horn. 
 
 The question has often been asked by anxious mothers and 
 hypothetically unprejudiced outsiders : Is Harvard snobbish ? 
 Not long ago one of our leading Boston dailies published answers 
 to this question, signed by representative undergraduates. The 
 signatures were very interesting, chirographically. No one was 
 willing to admit that Harvard is snobbish. One man did, indeed, 
 agree that some men are snobbish here, but he was a prominent 
 athlete who had just been put on probation. 
 
34 
 
 Every undergraduate recognizes, however, the distinction be 
 
 tween Sports and Grinds. It is very easy to tell these two 
 classes apart; even their manner of salutation reveals to irhaf 
 faction they belong. For instance, when one Grind meets 
 another, he slaps him on the back, assumes a swaggering air 
 and blurts out, " Hello, old Sport ! How's the world treating us 
 to-day, eh? Didn't see you in at the Fops, last night." 
 
 The meeting of two Sports is somewhat like this, " Ah, good 
 morning, student. You look careworn this morning. Nothing 
 the matter with you, I hope." "No, been grinding all night for 
 a German A exam. Don't stop me now, I've got to go over to 
 the library to finish a special report." 
 
 The Grind is a mature youth who rejoices in a long overdue 
 crop of hair and lives according to the President's schedule, 
 spending twelve hours out of the twenty-four in a vigorous search 
 for Veritas and eighteen A + s. He is adored at the Office and 
 exasperatingly satisfactory to his parents. He receives every 
 known variety of frill on his degree, revels in a Commencement 
 Part, and returns after graduation to become an instructor in 
 English A. 
 
 The Sport knows everything before he arrives, and is conse- 
 quently extremely bored by the courses he is required to take. 
 He comes to college to learn to know men, and soon knows a 
 good many, among others being the Recorder and the Dean. 
 As a Sophomore he learns to smoke a pipe in the street, and by 
 the time he is a full-fledged Junior (sometimes a matter of four 
 or five years), nothing but Commonwealth Avenue can hold him. 
 He everywhere seeks for truth from original sources. I have 
 known men of this sort who were so interested in political history 
 that, in order to investigate the subject more accurately, they 
 retired for a time to Lexington, the birthplace of American lib- 
 erty. The Sport scorns anything higher than a plain degree, 
 and sometimes gives that to the Office to keep for him for a 
 year or two. If my criticism of the Sports has seemed too hard, 
 I beg them to remember that in a place where all are tainted 
 with snobbishness, it is exceedingly difficult for me to remain 
 entirely uninfluenced by prejudice. 
 
 And now Class Day has come — our Class Day, so eagerly 
 anticipated for its own sake, so long dreaded because of its to- 
 
35 
 
 morrow. Before I close, and se*d you forth into the cold, cold 
 world, I wish to deliver a few timely warnings in regard to the 
 observance of the day itself. Seniors, don't be deceived into 
 thinking this is your day, for it isn't. While you are showing 
 Aunt Matilda the sights, inadvertently taking Gore Hall for the 
 college chapel and planting the Washington Elm in the middle of 
 the Yard, and while you are directing Uncle Henry to the near- 
 est punch, the careless Junior will be waltzing with your best girl 
 at one of the swell spreads. To those of Harvard's fair invaders 
 who have never danced in the gymnasium it is only fair to say 
 that evergreen corners are treacherous places, and that sitting 
 out a two-step on a pair of parallel bars is attended with some 
 risks. As for those men who insist on taking Class Day in its 
 most serious aspect, I can assure them that Class Day engage- 
 ments will not preclude them from receiving a baccalaureate 
 degree at Commencement. Let us then eat, drink and be merry 
 and whatever the morrow may bring forth, let us ever make it a 
 glory to the genius of Harvard Ninety-five. 
 
Glass ©&e. 
 
 CARLETON ELDREDGE NOVES. 
 
 Across storm-driven spaces, our Lady of Truth, 
 
 We beheld thee fair shining in grace, 
 And rapt by the charm of thy radiant youth, 
 
 We toiled for a glimpse of thy face. 
 In darkness and doubt thy smile was our light, 
 
 As we looked from deep places to thee; 
 Though shaken by error, yet strong with thy might, 
 
 We fought for the truth that makes free. 
 
 To win thee, our Lady, in days that are past, 
 
 With stress in fierce conflict we wrought, 
 Yet because of thy fairness, we reck not the cost, 
 
 For thou art the guerdon we sought. 
 Through evil and good, with thee at our side, 
 
 Triumphant we pass on life's road ; 
 Up heights of achievement wilt thou be our guide, 
 
 Till we stand in the presence of God. 
 
CLASS DAY OFFICERS. 
 
 ©rator. 
 EDWARD HENRY WARREN. 
 
 Poet* 
 CHARLES MACOMB FLANDRAU. 
 
 f \>E ©rator, 
 WALTER KIRKPATRICK BRICE. 
 
 ©Oi0t. 
 CARLETON ELDREDGE NOYES. 
 
 Afcarabals. 
 
 ROBERT WALES EMMONS, 2nd. 
 WALTER MOTHERWELL BRIGGS. 
 ROBERT DUFFIELD WRENN. 
 
 d lags 3>a£ Committee. 
 
 PARKER WILLIAMS WHITTEMORE. 
 HARRY FAIRBANKS HARTWELL. 
 ALEXANDER FRANCIS STEVENSON. 
 
 Cborteter. 
 DANIEL CROSBY GREENE, Jr. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS UHBANA 
 
 3 0112 110188239