lEx Htbrtfi SEYMOUR DURST ~t ' 'Tort nteiitv ^>4m/ftrd u ^ u Jj* c o c u ■-> o ►j c H z> ~ tX 3 > in bC J3 ■S .S H 1} T3 S "3 t/i — . in CTj £ The College of the Past 7 Education, organized on lines not dissimilar from those of the present Board. The schools of the Society, intended originally as charity-schools for the poor, had proved so excellent that the children of the rich also knocked at their doors, until at last the people were glad to undertake the responsibility of providing for their support by public taxation, and making them a place where the rich and the poor should indeed meet together. In the meantime, from as early as 1826, there had been proposals for a Latin school, a high school, a normal school — the movement assuming dif- ferent phases with different years. It was after the organization of the Board of Education, however, that definite steps were taken for the foundation of that institution for the higher education which has since become the College of the City of New York. Town- send Harris, whose name is interestingly associated with the earliest American relations with Japan, has been properly regarded as the real founder of the College, as is acknowledged in the naming in his honor of the first of the new college buildings to be finished. It was on his motion that a committee w T as appointed July 27, 1846, to report upon a plan which took final shape when, under a legislative act of May 7, 1847, the people of New York, in the school and judicial election of June, 1847, decided, by a vote of 19,455 to 3409, that they would establish the New York Free Academy. In November, 1847, the building for the Free Academy was commenced, and on the 15th of January, 1849, 8 The College of the Past one hundred and forty-three boys, picked representa- tives of the public and ward schools of New York, assembled in the chapel of the completed building as the first class of the Free Academy. The original build- ing still stands, with its curious buttresses and corner turrets, at the corner of Lexington Avenue and Twenty- third Street, a monument to New Yorkers of a city frugality which has not been the rule in later years. The building should be doubly famous from the fact that it cost actually two thousand dollars less than the appropriation of fifty thousand dollars, and that its cost per cubic foot, nine cents, was less than that of any building for public purposes ever erected in New York City. The cost of the ground was but twenty-five thousand dollars, making the total investment, includ- ing furnishing, considerably less than one hundred thousand dollars. Except that the stucco and paint, which gave it a make-believe effect of stone, have of late years been removed, and the brick construction honestly shown at the surface, the building is to-day what it was sixty years ago; and, although the attend- ance at the College has doubled several times, as college generations have passed, it still serves for the main work of the institution, with the additions only of a laboratorv building to the east, and a class-room building with a Natural Historv hall, which takes up some of the space originallv the "yard." But it is no longer above the centre of population as once it was, nor can its professors and students look across green fields Lexington Avenue Facade. Showing on the right the house in which President Webb resided for many years. The College of the Past 1 1 southward, over Gramercy Park; westward, beyond Madison Square; northward, to Rose Hill, now Twenty- seventh Street, with its few houses; and eastward clear to the East River. Nor can the boys go home "across lots," at the venture of a fracas with the roughs frequenting Stuyvesant Square, nor steal away for a half hour for a swim in the unfrequented river. The city long ago outgrew its bounds of those days, and has moved northward beyond the imagination of any man of the '4o's, and soon the College will no longer be "cribb'd, cabined, and confined," on its old site in narrow quarters. From the beginning, the school officers who proposed the Academy, the legislature which authorized it, the people who established it, had held firmly to two ideas which were clearly set forth in the report of the first Executive Committee for the government of the Acad- emy. They meant to establish an institution which, on the one hand, "in the character, kind, and value of the education imparted, should be inferior to none of our colleges," and on the other, "should be so organized that the course of studies to be pursued would tend to educate the pupils practically, and particularly qualify them to apply their learning to advance and perfect the operations of the various trades and occupations in which they may engage, and to furnish peculiar facil- ities for instruction of the highest order in the various branches of knowledge omitted altogether, or not practically taught, in our colleges." These two ideas 12 The College of the Past are developed in the original course of studies. "This institution," said those who drew the curriculum, "unlike other academies, is intended to be a substitute for both the academy and the college, offering to its pupils the means of general education now furnished by both these institutions together. Its course of studies, therefore, should be liberal, and embrace those both of the ordinary academy and the college." These purposes were furthered by prefixing to the usual four college classes a fifth class, known originally as the Introductory class, and later as the sub-Freshman, which was really a connecting link between the schools and the college proper. Throughout its development the College has not only held fast to these ideas, but it has been saved by them from aping a university, and from running riot in elective studies as so many of its sister colleges have done. It has held to the belief that during the academic and early collegiate years the student's work should be planned for him by those competent to survey the general field of education, as the student himself is not. Only in the Junior and Senior rears are "electives" permitted. But from the start the College has ingeniously met the diverse needs of students of diverse aims by providing, in place of optional studies, alternative curricula, each assuring a broad acquaintance with general knowledge, but spe- cializing in the specific direction of the choice of the student or his parents. From the beginning, therefore, there were a classical course and a scientific course, to J : The College of the Past 15 which later was added a mechanical course. The origi- nal distinction was that the ancient languages (with one optional modern language) included in the classical course were replaced in the scientific course by three modern languages. The students of the respective courses were commonly known as the "ancients" and the "moderns," which was indeed a more correct nomenclature. In later years the two courses de- veloped on more distinctive lines. A mechanical course was established, which, while omitting a few of the studies in the other courses, embraced actual shop practice in the use of tools, as well as studies in mechanical theory. The course of studies originally outlined included in the first year elementary Latin, which elsewhere was a part of the academic preparation for college, the ele- ments of a modern language, book-keeping, phono- graphy, and drawing — certainly an unusual combination of studies for that day. In another sense, the College was the child of West Point, and it adopted West Point traditions of strict discipline and the importance of higher mathematics, of drawing, and of thorough training in English. Its first president, Horace Webster, was a graduate of West Point in the class of '18, and its first professor of mathematics, Ross, was also a West Pointer. The organizers of the College were indeed fortunate in gathering, as the first faculty, a remarkable body of men. In those days class instruction was given almost 1 6 The College of the Past entirely by the professors, and their personal influence was therefore direct and efficient. The first president, who ruled with a rod of iron for twenty years, is re- membered by his students for his distinguished bear- ing, his high faith in the future of the College and his earnest devotion to its interests, his strict, indeed dogmatic, views of discipline, his wholesome intoler- ance of laziness and carelessness. " Ye students think how great a man is he Who can at once Horace and Webster be," was the amusing tribute of the college poet; but "the Doctor ' ' was rather a combination of Cato and Andrew Jackson. He stamped his mark indelibly on the College and upon the students of his time, as a man who looms up in memory as the years go by. The first president was succeeded by General Alex- ander S. Webb, another graduate of West Point and a veteran of the Civil War, and these two men, Webster and Webb, in the presidential chair, span the whole history of the College up to 1902. In that year General Webb retired, and Professor Alfred G. Compton, an alumnus of the first class to graduate from the College, served as acting president of the institution for a year. In September, 1903, Dr. John H. Finley, formerly presi- dent of Knox College and later professor of politics at Princeton, was inaugurated as president on the same day with the laying of the corner-stone of the College of the future on St. Nicholas Heights. The faculty, consisting originally of ten men, has The Lexincton Avenue Entrance This entrance has for sixty years been held sacred for visitors and the instructing corps. The diamond-shaped window immediately over the door sheds light into " Cana's den," the tiny office of the sore-tried Registrar. 17 The College of the Past 19 been enlarged again and again with the growing needs of the institution, until to-day it includes twelve pro- fessors who are heads of departments, fifteen associate professors, and ten assistant professors. These, more- over, are assisted by a staff of instructors numbering over a hundred and forty. The relation of the College to New York life is thorough and vital. Its fifty-seven classes have given more or less training to about thirty thousand students, and though its 2659 living alumni (out of 291 1 in all) are found from Maine to California, and in such distant centres as London, Beirut, Foochow, Sidney, and Hawaii, over two thousand are recorded as remaining in New York City, and probably a thirtieth of the entire male population of the city, above the age of fifteen, have been students in the College. Nearly every family in New York, except among the latest immigrants, has had directly or indirectly some know- ledge of the advantages of the College, and it is there- fore not surprising that one of the several attacks made upon it was met by a memorial in its favor signed by fifty-five thousand citizens. Many of its students come from the poorest classes, the fathers working harder that their boys may have a ' ' better chance ' ' than them- selves, and of these many are the children of foreign parents who speak little if any English, for whom the public schools and the College are the living link be- tween the bright future which the}- seek for their children, and the dark past from which they have 20 The College of the Past escaped. Cf late years foreign names have been more and more predominant on the roll and among the honor men — direct proof of the assimilating influence of our public school and college training, and of the peculiar value of the chair of English in the City College. The students lack dormitory life, but as an offset they are constant centres of unconscious development in their own homes, when they belong to the less developed part of the community; and the continued association in the schools, in the College, and in business life has developed friendships which knit together usefullv a great many of New York's most effective citizens as the men of no other college are knit together. The same influence has been exerted usefully upon and through the public: school system, although the College has not even yet developed its full powers as a guiding force in our system of public education. The City College has been virtually a normal college for men, and in this way has also greatly influenced the public school system. Three members of the Board of Edu- cation ian (lows at either end; the other stories divided by a main hall lengthwise and a stairway hall crosswise, into four divisions, each containing two or three spacious lecture-rooms. On the first floor these four sections are given respectively to the president's and faculty rooms, the library, the chemistry lecture-room, and the laboratory. The basement floor gives janitor's rooms, store-rooms, and workshops for the mechanical course. Curiously enough, "Room No. i," in which for his en- tire term President Webster, as professor of philosophy, delivered his lectures to the Senior class, was in these depths, occupying the space now devoted to the work- shops. But the spacious class-rooms had soon to be cut up, one after another, into smaller rooms to accommo- date the increasing throng of students. In 1870 an additional building, including, besides recitation-rooms, a gathering-place for the lower classes, and a good natural history hall, was erected, and an extension to the main building has also afforded opportunity for a better laboratory in which students can do individual work. But with all these makeshifts the College has been cramped at every turn. The excellent library, con- taining above 37.000 volumes, became almost useless by lack of space, and the collections, containing 75,000 specimens, have been housed here and there about the buildings to the very last corner, while valuable physi- cal apparatus suffered equally for want of room. With the new provision for the city's great educational institution, it should be possible to put these several 36 The College of the Past collections at the service of the public as well as of the students proper, and it is to be hoped, also, that the college buildings may become a centre of university extension, and thus increase the vital relations of the College with the population of the metropolis. When the College opened, its site was more than a mile above the city's centre of population, and in 1851, two years later, only 57 out of its 382 students lived north of Twenty-third Street. At the turn of the century the old site was more than a mile below the city's centre of population, and that population was several times what it was in 1848. Forty years ago it was proposed to move the College uptown, to where the Seventh Regiment Armory now stands, or to Reservoir Square. Both of those sites were already too far downtown, and the movement for removal took final shape in a plan for a site well to the north, about where the centre of population will be in the early part of the present century. The old college site, which even with the addition of the Twenty-second Street plot, cost only S3 7.000, is now valued at a dozen times that amount. It was "manifest destiny" that the College should take part in the northward movement of all our educational institutions. One by one the alumni of the College and then other citizens of our metropolis began to recognize the pressing needs of this their favorite educational insti- tution. Their united efforts resulted finally in 1895 in the passage of a bill by the State Legislature which "-> M .', u ^: S < ,d ■— X 4-» T) to W 6 0) to in o ■*J H M z u a +J o aj D 09 -t-J ft o x Ih — & o o tO -t-» > U fl — +J B _: id to > o y o n g V Efl X — — •a ^o fj •_/ "He a) o "O £ rt to to" > T3 od 75 u Pj "tu 73 3 .Q o *" ■ - g -*-> o . |S _, ■_ P( ~ -j ~^ bo ft ~ C The College of the Past 39 authorized the erection of the new college buildings now standing on St. Nicholas Heights. A thousand obstacles, some foreseen, others unforeseen, delayed the acquirement of the site and the construction of the buildings. Meanwhile the crowded conditions in Twenty-third Street became unbearable. Rooms were partitioned off by curtains in the chapel; classes recited in the old "faculty room," once reserved solely for the deliberations of that august body. Finally even the library, already overflowing, was pressed into service, and a class-room partitioned off among its shelves. The first definite move toward relieving this con- gestion took place in 1899, when the authorities leased for the College the upper floor of the two-story addition to the Metropolitan Life Building on Twenty-third Street between Fourth and Madison avenues. To this temporary annex were transferred ten "sections" of students, and the groaning floors of the main building found some slight relief. The respite was but brief. Other changes were impending about the College, sufficient to make the year 1900 an epoch in its growth, a year as important as that which brought to it the name and dignity of a college. In 1900 was passed the law which removed the College from under the supervision of the New York Board of Education and placed it under trustees of its own. These trustees were made ten in number, nine to be appointed by the mayor of the city, the other 40 The College of the Past to be the president of the Board of Education. This was dreaded by some as holding within it a possi- bility of the weakening of the associations connecting the College with the public school system, a danger which fortunately has proved illusory. On the other hand, it withdrew the College from the care of a large group of overworked gentlemen not always in sympathy with its needs, and placed its guidance in the hands of a compact bod}* of select men, several of them its own alumni, and all devoted to its welfare. The advantages of this more concentrated control have been made most happily manifest not only in the construction of the new college, but in the government of the eld. Modern education had made such advances that a change notable and far reaching was being forced upon the College from without. High schools had been established by the city and, their four-year course of study being only a single year shorter than that at the liege, the older institution was brought into obvious competition with the new ones. Moreover, colleges everywhere throughout the country were being sharply separated from the so-called "secondary schools" and were demanding four years of high school study as a preliminary to "college " work. The extra pressure put upon students at the City College, and the more numer- ous hours of recitation, had long been held to make the course equivalent to a more extended one elsewhere, but the discrepancy was growing too great. Finally the New York State Board of Regents warned the college hJ °-H S -5 tt - • A Bi -^ O ^ u if. 2 V >. rt « .3 The College of the Past 43 authorities that unless the course was enlarged they would refuse to recognize the college degrees. Under this urgency changes were made. The old plea of heavier work was still admitted, and in consequence the Regents did not ask that the course be extended to eight years, but agreed that seven were sufficient. The>- also approved of the change being made gradually. It began its operation in 1900. The students entering in June, 1899, an ^ graduating in 1904 formed the last five-year class. The practice was begun of admitting the public school graduates twice a year, in February as well as in June. A class was thus begun in February, 1900, and graduated in June, 1905, after five and a half years. The class of 1906 spent six years in the institution; that of 1907 entered in February, 1901. Not until 1908 will the graduating students have had the full seven years' tuition. And after that the College, since it has continued the policy of welcoming students in February, must face the problem of graduating them in that month also and possibly having two "Com- mencements" each year. This change has of course greatly altered the old svstem at the College. The former "sub-Freshman class" has been extended over three years and is known as the "academic department." Its entering class is known as lower C, then, after six months, as upper C, then come lower and upper B, and lower and upper A. From A there are regular graduation exer- cises and a formula of admission into the four-vear 44 The College of the Past course of the College proper. Professor John R. Sim has been made "professor in charge" of the academic department. This increase in the number of the lower grades has resulted in a temporary displacement of the centre of gravity in the College. There are many lower-class students; while in the upper classes, spread apart to cover the gap between five years and seven, the men are comparatively less numerous. But this dispropor- tion will balance itself in another two years, and the classes resume a more normal relation as to size. Turning again to the practical conditions which the College faced in 1900, one can readily imagine how the increasing number of classes accentuated the crowded condition of affairs. The annex in the Metropolitan building soon proved too small, and in February, 1901, the building was abandoned and a larger one was leased. This new annex, known as the Cass building, was sit- uated on the north side of Twenty-third Street (No. 209) between Third and Second avenues. During the period of shifting, afternoon sessions were held in the old buildings; and then the Cass building was put hurried lv into use with temporary paper muslin partitions mark- ing off the rooms, and with instructors' voices ringing from end to end of the crowded floors. The new annex, when arrangements were completed, had space for over a thousand students; yet within a year it was over- crowded and still further room required. A second building, the Beach, was therefore leased (Feb., 1902) 3 o V. n r. o Efl ^Z v W +-> as £ +-» ;/. fi c o — _ v. ■/. C DO 09 — U K z 5 x cd .a The College of the Past 47 on Twenty-third Street between Lexington Avenue and Fourth. With these two annexes the College continued until 1905. But the two thousand students of 1901 had increased to three thousand and beyond. One night the Beach building was gutted by fire, and the expedient of afternoon sessions was perforce resorted to again. After that there was no escaping them, and the Cass building had regular afternoon classes from one o'clock till five. Fortunately the uptown structures were approach- ing completion. The Beach building was abandoned in the spring of 1905. Townsend Harris Hall was made ready for some portion of the academic department, and in September, 1905, began the gradual transference of the students to their new home. Only the academic A's and B's were sent there at first; and students and instructors worked amid the clang of hammers, without doors to their rooms, often without glass in the window openings. On cold days everybody was sent home. In September, 1906, the buildings were so far ad- vanced that it was possible for them to accommodate the entire academic department. All of those students were established there and the Cass building, last of the downtown annexes, became, so far as the College is concerned, a tradition of the past. The alteration in the length of the college course made necessarily an alteration in its course of study. After careful deliberation and consultation with the 48 The College of the Past & faculty, the trustees separated the old three courses into five. These were established in September, 1901. Three led to the degree of B. A. and are known as the Language Course, Classical; the Language Course, Latin and French; and the Language Course, Modern. The other two, leading to the degree of B. S., are the Scien- tific Course, and the Scientific Course, Mechanical. Of these the first, third, and fifth may be regarded as enlargements of the old Classical, Scientific, and Me- chanical Courses. Still another scientific course has recently been added. With such training and with the thoroughness which has always been insisted on in every branch, it is no wonder that the City College man is distinctively a worker. The strict discipline and effective scholar- ship of the College are well shown in the after-record of its men, particularly in the professional schools of New York. Not many of its graduates have become ministers, but the other professions have taken a good number, and these men have won a large share of the prizes in the New York professional schools. Of the college graduates studying in the School of Mines, in the years for which records are at hand, City College men numbered sixteen per cent, and took forty-three per cent, of the prizes. Perhaps the Civil Service exam- inations at the New York Custom House prove the most interesting test. A report of 1882 stated that "applicants educated at the New York Free Academy have been so signally successful that they have been c K s o o v. +j W >8 o O The College of the Past 51 placed in a distinct class." Out of 377 applicants up to 1880, fourteen were educated at the College; the general average of all applicants was 64 per cent., against which the City College men had reached the average of 82 per cent., the men of special technological education coming next with 80 per cent., those of other colleges following with 69 per cent., those of academic education with 68 per cent., those with free-school education with 61 per cent., and those educated in business colleges with 59 per cent. Here is the best of evidence both that education tells in practical life and that the College of the City of New York has held its own in general education. The excellent mathematical and scientific training of the College was not only serviceable during the war, but has given its men an advantage in the army, and in engineering life and scientific work generallv. Major Michaelis, of '62. who enlisted as a private in the first month of the war, was the first civilian to pass examin- ation for admission into the Ordnance Corps, one of the two blue ribbon divisions of the army, in which the honor men of West Point find place. Many of the stu- dents of the College after a partial course there have won their way by competitive examination to West Point or Annapolis, and thus, though lost to the College records, have taken its training into those fields of life. Cleveland Abbe, at Washington; Ira Remsen at Balti- more; Edward W. Scripture at Yale; J. Bach Mc- Master at Princeton; Bashford Dean and Charles L. 52 The College of the Past Poor at Columbia; Robert F. Weir at the College of Physicians and Surgeons; Charles Derleth at the University of California ; Frank Schlesinger at the Meadville Observatory, and W. E. Geyer at the Stevens Institute, are among the men who stand in science as its representatives. The College has no dormitory life, but it has strong society spirit. In the early days the " Amphilogian " set the example which was followed by the "Clionian" and " Phrenocosmian," the two literary societies of to-dav, which semi-annually meet in joint debate in the college chapel in contention for a prize. The Amphilo- gian limited its membership to the first class, but its men for several years kept up the memory of the past by a rowboat excursion to Riker's Island, where they "celebrated" under the shade of cedar groves which are now no more. The first Greek letter society, the Sigma Xi, was also a '53 society, but later came Alpha Delta Phi, Delta Kappa Epsilon, Phi Gamma Delta, Theta Delta Chi, and others of more recent date, in which fraternities the New York chapters have taken a prominent part. In opposi- tion to these the Manhattan League, one of the anti-secret societies, was early established, and later a chapter of the Delta Upsilon. For the present the secret societies have no opposition societies, but the one evil which is associated with them, the domination of college politics, has never been marked in the City College. The most distinctive student organization, z a a ° ri a <. •-< H be ^ . a — | t 3 -d z '3 W g X 5 The College of the Past 55 perhaps, was the so-called "Senate," which was an endeavor by the present writer with others to establish, in 1866, a form of self-government among the students, which afterwards took root and grew to success at Amherst, Michigan, and other colleges. This was probably the first attempt of the kind; but it was vigorously repressed by the first president, whose mili- tary methods permitted of no democratic independence. Among Dr. Finley's recent progressive efforts has been the re-establishment of this old idea in the shape of a "students' council." This is composed of representa- tives from all the college classes, and already it takes no small part in the control and guidance of the student body. The Gamma chapter of New York of the Phi Beta Kappa was established at the College in 1868, only Union College and the University having at that time chapters of this venerable but not very secret society. Soon afterwards the Delta chapter was established at Columbia and now a number of the leading colleges of the State have charters from that honored 'fraternity of scholars. In athletics the City College has not made a great name for itself. Forty years since, before baseball had become professionalized, its nine held the cham- pionship among the college clubs with which it had come in contact, and the Harlem and Passaic rivers afforded opportunity for very amateurish boat-clubs and "excursions." Twenty years ago its lacrosse team stood deservedly prominent among college 56 The College of the Past teams; and to-day its basket-ball players are achieving a temporary glory. But the fact that the College recruits itself largely from the poorer classes has perhaps made impossible the development of a set of men who could give themselves chiefly or largely to athletics. Clubs of many kinds, for music, chess, cross-country running, natural history, etc., have flourished more or less. The City College, though it has never attempted a "school of journalism" has always. been more or less a school for journalists, and several of its men have gone into that profession, partly as a result of their training as editors of college publications. The "Cos- mopolitan" and the "Free Academy Monthly," pub- lished so long ago as 1861, were among the earliest college magazines, and 'The Collegian" of 1866, conducted by the present writer, was one of the earliest examples of modern college journalism proper. Another paper of the same name was started in 1875, and in 1876 "The College Echo" was issued. None of these papers survived the college life of their first editors, if so long; but in March, 1880, appeared the first issue of "The College Mercury," which is still in existence and which has been one of the most creditable of college journals. The early "Collegian" and the later "Mer- cury" both showed so much independence that their editors were more or less subject to criticism and disci- pline of the authorities. But the "Mercury" has now outlived seven college generations and is so organized First Floor Corridor, Looking South. This shows the heads of the two stairways rising from the basement. To the right is the Trophy Case and the entrance to the library and offices. Along the southward corridor are the frames in which students' marks were formerly posted. Above these are por- traits of former professors. Overhead is the ancient bell, to ring which was once the highest ambition of disorder. :7 The College of the Past 59 'S as to insure a safe prospect of continuity. Besides these papers the College has had an unusual number of skits and burlesque papers, under various names, and its student literature also includes an annual devoted to the various societies, known as "The Micro- cosm," and a considerable supply of song-books, bur- lesque programmes, and the like. It is a pity that a full collection of the earlier among these student publi- cations was not preserved in the college library, for a first aim of a college librarian should be to provide the most complete collection possible of the student as well as the official publications of the college. In 1904 was started the " City College Quarterly," an alumni pub- lication of which Professor Lewis F. Mott, head of the department of English, is now the editor. The solid nature of the Quarterly, and of the alumni support behind it, gives promise of its permanence. The College is very large in numbers, having at the fall opening in 1906 over 3,900 students. The lower classes have always been the largest, for the severity of the course soon results in the "survival of the fit- test" only. It takes a really able man to complete the work. Moreover, this decrease in numbers is, in another sense, an essential feature of the relations of the College to the community, and suggests how many bovs come to it for such collegiate education as they can get, and drop out necessarily to take their places in the work-a- day world. The College gives them plentv of work while thev are there, for one of its statisticians has com- 6o The College of the Past &' puted that the total hours of actual college work, namely 2960 hours in the four collegiate classes, is larger in the College of the City of New York than in any other American institution. Yet many of the students earn their education by the hardest kinds of work. A num- ber, of course, pursue a frequent plan of college students, in giving lessons of one sort or another, but others among past or present students have really lived two lives, one of study, one of work. One student earned his living by a milk wagon round before the college day opened; another sold morning papers; another notable example acted as night watchman in a store in which he lodged, and gave private lessons to earn food and clothes; another worked half the night in the post- office and yet maintained a high standing in his class. Other students, as waiters in summer hotels or tele- graph operators during the summer, have made it possible for them to become college graduates. The Associate Alumni as an organization early founded a Students' Aid Fund, which is in the hands of five trustees, Professor Compton, Professor Sim, John Hardy, Everett P. Wheeler, and Ferdinand Shack. From this fund loans are made to students, to be re- paid in later life. The college year runs on steadily, with a break for the first term review examinations, until it culminates of course in the high festival of Commencement Week. This is enlivened by the prize debate between represen- tatives of the college literary societies, by the prize First Floor Corridor. Looking toward the Library. Pictures of many graduating classes are grouped along the walls. Profes- sor Draper's portrait is on the left. At the extreme end is the ancient registrar's "den." 61 The College of the Past 63 '& speaking, by the social meeting of the Associate Alumni, and by Commencement itself, when the extraordinary number of prizes and medals which have been showered upon the College by would-be benefactors are distributed from the stage to the heroes of the hour. These prizes include gold and silver Pell medals, for general profi- ciencv; gold and silver Cromwell medals, for history and belles-lettres; the twenty bronze Ward medals; the two gold Riggs medals, for English essays; the two gold and silver Claflin medals, for proficiency in the classics; the Ketchum prizes, for excellence in philoso- phy; the Devoe prizes, for handicraft; the Mason Carnes prizes, for translations from modern dramatic literature, and other prizes almost beyond number. The six honor men who represent the college training as orators of the night usually show to the large audiences which crowd Carnegie Hall good common- sense results of their course, and as a matter of fact few citizens of New York, who either in this way or by more careful observation learn what the College of the City of New York really is, would fail to desire that this institution should have the means for growth and progress which will keep it at the forefront in the work which it has been organized to do. The First President 65 Horace Webster— the First President Everett P. Wheeler, '56 T_J GRACE WEBSTER was the first president of the * l College of the City of New York, which in his time was known as the New York Free Academy. Its original name was suggested by that of the Military Academy at West Point, and it was very natural that its first president should be a West Point man. Dr. Webster was born in Hartford, Vermont, on the 21st of September, 1794. This little village stands in the beautiful Connecticut valley. In the New England States at that time Vermont filled the place which was afterwards taken by the far West, and enterprising emigrants, especially from Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, found their way into the fertile valleys of what afterwards became the Green Mountain State. Webster's parents were of this hardy and courageous stock. When he was born the Constitution of the United States had just been adopted. Into the more perfect Union thus effected Vermont was ad- mitted in 1 79 1. The boy grew up amidst a proud, high-spirited race of mountaineers. He knew the men who had fought at Bennington and Saratoga and he 67 68 Horace Webster — the First President learned to feel, as they felt, the blessings of the Union and the necessity of a strong central government which should ensure to the people domestic tranquillity and efficient administration. He had his first lessons in the free district schools of Vermont. He received an appointment as cadet at West Point about the close of the war of 1812. He graduated in 1818 at the head of his class and was appointed assistant professor of mathematics in the Military Academy, which post he filled until 1826. There he imbibed those lessons ' ' of work done squarely and unwasted days" which he inculcated in the Free Academy, and which have been its unbroken tradition from that time to this. His success as an instructor at West Point was so signal that in 1826 he was appointed the first professor of mathematics and intellectual philosophy at Hobart, then Geneva, College, which place he filled from 1826 to 1848. He was always a strict disciplinarian, and could not tolerate any neglect or indolence in his stu- dents. In his sharp, quick, military manner he would snap up the man who came to the class-room without preparation, except that derived from his inner con- sciousness. On the other hand, he loved the faithful student, encouraged him in every way, and was always readv after graduation by every means in his power t< > aid the graduate to achieve success. When in 1848 the Free Academy was about to begin its work, the Board of Education selected Horace (K^T-o-o-^vV^li-^-GO 69 Horace Webster — the First President 7 1 Webster to be its first president. He served the city faithfully in this capacity for twenty-one years. In 1849 he received from Columbia College the degree of Doctor of Laws. He was made Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy in 1851 and was the instructor of the Senior class in those subjects, as well as in the Constitution of the United States. Moral Philosophy he taught from Wayland, Intellectual Philosophy from Mahan. The latter was a West Point man, the father of Captain Mahan of the Navy-, and he put into his book a clearness of statement and vigor of thought that were bracing to the mind of the student and harmonized well with Webster's precision and thoroughness. In- struction in these subjects was, however, but a small part of the activity of Dr. Webster. In co-operation with his faculty he established an organization and system of discipline, the object of which was to bring into harmonious activity the boys who came from the public schools, and to set before them such a standard of excellence, both moral and intellectual, as should develop their characters and make them fit for the conflict of life. In this he certainly succeeded. He was the soul of honor and integrity, and he taught his students to feel that their aim should be "to maintain the honor of the flag"; to scorn every- thing that was mean, and to do their duty as good citizens and true men. The curriculum of the City College has alwavs been exacting. To a degree unusual in colleges, it has 72 Horace Webster — the First President combined instruction in the sciences, with classical and literary training. This combination has in practice proved most useful. No college has produced a larger proportion of manly and efficient citizens. Much of the honor is due to the skill with which Webster planned the course and the fidelity with which he administered his office. His faults were the defects of his qualities. He was sometimes too much of a martinet, too precise in little things, but he was always just, would always listen to what the student had to say, and did aim to stir up all that was manly in the breast of the young man. The ground of his character was his religious spirit. He was unobtrusive in this, but loyal and sincere. He was for twenty years a communicant in St. George's Epis- copal Church, and for several of those years was a Vestryman and Superintendent of the Sunday School. The distinctive principles of the Gospel of Christ were dear to him and he strove to embody them in his life. In 1869 he gave up his active participation in the college work and retired to Geneva, where he died July 12, 1871. Dr. Webster married Sarah M. Fowler of Albany, March 28, 1827. They had three children who grew to maturity: Horace, who was born in 1832 and died in China in 1865; Margaret Stevenson, who was born in 1840 and died in 1903 ; and Edward Bayard, born in 1842, who is still living in Geneva. The Library Corridor, Looking East. A reverse view of the earlier picture. The entrance to the library is in the fore-ground to the right and the president's office to the left. 73 Horace Webster — the First President 75 The resolutions adopted by the class of 1872, November 17, 187 1, are worth preserving: We, members of the class of '72, now the last in college who have enjoyed the benefits of Dr. Webster's administration, would express our sorrow for his death, and our appreciation of his many admirable qualities. In the course of twenty-one years of generous labor, he had so identified himself with the College, that his loss is sincerely regretted, and it is in recognition of his worth and of our regard, that, in this memorial, we would recall the career of one whose memory we cherish, and whose influence, wherever exerted, has left its indelible impression. Recognizing in his devotion to the interests of education, in his fidelity to his trust, and in his sterling excellence, a life well spent, we would reverence his memory and " be of good cheer; for he hath prevailed." In behalf of the class, H. D. Cooper, H. van Kleek, S. J. Strauss, J. B. McMaster, R. van Saxtvoord. A public meeting in commemoration of his services in the cause of education was held in St. George's Church, November 17, 187 1. Addresses were made by the pastor, who was familiarly known to many of the men of his time as "Old Dr. Tyng," and also by the Chancellor of the University, Dr. Howard Crosby. Perhaps there is no better statement of his char- acter than that given by another West Point professor, Davies: 76 Horace Webster — the First President Few men have left behind them a nobler record. He had a great work assigned him, and he lived long enough to perfect it. He will be long remembered as an able educator. His academic life was marked by a love of knowledge, which grew and strength- ened with his years; by habits of study, early formed and long continued; by a firm and gentle manner, which commanded obedience and won regard ; by a sense of justice never weakened by fickleness or passion; and by a punctuality in the discharge of every duty which was an admonition to the heedless, an encouragement to the orderly, and a beautiful example to all. This notice would be incomplete without reprinting from the " Hobart Herald" an amusing incident of Webster's professorship there: In the morning, both summer and winter, all the students were rung up to prayers in the chapel and for a recitation before breakfast. But there was an occasion when the morning prayer was made to suffer. It was a bright summer morning when the sleepyheads appeared in the chapel in their usual hasty toilet of the early hour. But the sleepyheads were suddenly waked up and the eyes were opened quick and wide at the spectacle which saluted them. For behind the breastwork on the platform stood tied as in a stall, an old street horse. Outside and in front of him sat the faculty, Prof. Webster in their midst. He looked with his thought-reading eyes at the students as they came in, one by one, and wholly ignored the presence of the quadruped behind him. As for the students, they looked only at the horse. Prof. Webster was a West Point disciplinarian, and as though nothing was more agreeable to him than to have a horse there, he proceeded with the morning devotions. The recitation followed the prayers, every man carefully and innocently in his place. After breakfast, it was felt that something must be done. The Library, West End. The main part of the library, choked with books and cases, lies to the left. The distributing desk and shelves of the deputy librarian, Mr. Bliss, are in the background. It is there that everybody applies for information of every kind. 77 Horace Webster — the First President 79 Strengthened by the matutinal meal, all gathered together in the chapel to do it. And so the poor animal was led by the halter to the hall and fairly, but with difficulty, " graduated" hind end foremost down the stairs and into the open. The feat was accomplished with hearty cheers for the only horse among the many of a longer-eared race that had gone through college. It seems also appropriate to add to this notice a characteristic letter from Geneva which he wrote to James R. Doolittle, who afterwards became United States Senator from Wisconsin: My dear young Friend: I have just had the pleasure of receiving your letter of the 19th inst., requesting my assistance in getting you a situation in New York, etc. I will write to Mr. Foot, as you desire, imme- diately, and communicate you the result when received. There are a great variety of openings in New York, yet if they are desirable and such as a young man of talents and acquirement would desire to occupy, they are almost immediately rilled by young men in the city, or in the neighboring vicinity; besides the influx of foreigners is so great at this time that even those who are well educated solicit places temporarily for a bare subsistence and submit to impositions which one who has breathed the independent country atmosphere could never do. I mention this to you lest you be too sanguine in your expecta- tions and finally fail. I shall give Mr. F. such a recommendation of your capacity and integrity that no doubt he will exert him- self much for you; perhaps he may desire a clerk in his own office. Would it not be best for you to spend two years in the country in a law office and the last year in the city? I am by no means decided in my own mind, whether I would advise a young man to go to the city for employment ; quite half that go there 8o Horace Webster — The First President from the country are ruined. A young man of industry and correct habits will succeed anywhere and be distinguished, yet it is true the field is rather more extensive in the city than in the country, still the chances for failure are greater in the former than in the latter. Be moderate in your expectations, yet severe in your atten- tion to duty in whatever situation you may be placed, and suc- cess must attend you. We have thirty scholars in the College at present ; ten in the Freshman class. Our medical school goes into operation in February. With this I send you a catalogue of officers, etc. I shall be very glad to hear from you frequently and be useful to you in any manner in my power. Please circulate our course of studies. Your friend, etc., Horace Webster. As I close this memorial I seem to see our old "Prex," standing on the platform of the Gothic chapel, at the top of the Dutch stadthaus, that was the first home of the Free Academy, and which we soon are to leave. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with erect, mil- itary figure. His voice was clear and not unmelodious. He read the selection from Scripture (often from the book of Proverbs) with a decisive intonation that showed he felt it to be the very word of command. We dispersed to our recitation-rooms, which then were com- modious. The total number of students in my time was less than five hundred, and there was room for all. The old Doctor's minute requirements were often irk- some. But all were proud to have such a fine looking ■z h J§ oj \r :S g e- .2 ^ ~Z > - b c g c: oj ■/ -^ - >- v. C - L ~ wo iC' *> ~ 5 £' c 2 <* « ■" a bt Q U3 ft • « ? J;- - +* c b >■ c <* K o o o 5 *C 6 -■ ^ '55 ° « y o ^- ~ 3 U « \v — No one was ever so wise as the Doctor looked. Even those who most were irked by his discipline could not, in their hearts, but respect his integrity and simplicity of character. Blessed be his memory. The First Faculty 85 The First Faculty Alfred G. Compton, '53 /~\N the 27th of January, 1849, the New York Free ^-^ Academy was opened to the people of the City of New York with public exercises in the chapel of its recently finished building. On this occasion Mr. Robert Kelly, the President of the Board of Education, intro- duced to the audience the first Faculty of the Free Academy, consisting of the following gentlemen: Horace Webster, LL.D., Principal. Edward C. Ross, Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. Gerardus B. Docharty, Assistant Professor of Mathe- matics and Natural Philosophy. Theodore Irving, Professor of History and Belles- Lettres. John J. Owen, D.D., Professor of the Latin and Greek Languages and Literature. Oliver W. Gibbs, Professor of Chemistry. Jean Roemer, Professor of the French Language. Agustin J. Morales, Professor of the Spanish Language. Theodore Glaubensklee, Professor of the German Language and Literature. 37 88 The First Faculty Paul P. Duggan, Professor of Drawing. These are the men who are always in mind when any student of the first three or four classes speaks of the Faculty, and the addition of Professors Nichols, Benedict, Barton, Anthon, Koerner, and Doremus and their successors extends the old Faculty down to the mid-way Faculty, and so on continuously down to the Faculty of thirty-one members of the present day. Of this first Faculty, at whose feet I sat for four years and whose friendship I enjoyed till the days of their deaths, I have been asked to give such account as I can. Horace Webster was a man of strong and imposing aspect, with thin lips, lofty forehead, piercing eye, and erect carriage, wearing the air of a master. And a master he was, at least of the students, for man}- years from that winter of 1849. He was not a great orator; his speech was crisp, exclamatory, blunt in figures, devoid of ornament. But as a giver of laws he was respected and obeyed. It must not be imagined that the boys never outwitted him. They did sometimes — but they often thought they did, when he knew very well what they were about. When he walked one day into the drawing-room and found the assembled plaster gods and heroes, from Ulysses down to Dante, each with a clay pipe in his mouth, his turning out of the room without a word was not because he did not note the undignified demeanor of the gods, but partly, I think, because he did not choose to enter on a hopeless inquiry, and still more because he was almost exploding with Prof. Ross in '50. Prof. Roemer IN '58. Prof. Gibbs in '63. Prof. Glaubenskee in '58. Vice. Pres. Owen in '5S. Prof. Docharty in '58. Sq Prof. Irving in '52. Prof. Morales in '58. Prof. Duggan in '60. The First Faculty 9 1 mirth which he wished to conceal. This tact was, I believe, as important a factor in his discipline, especially during the earlier years of his government, as his firm- ness, and many instances might be cited in which the just balance of these two traits was shown. Dr. Owen, I think, was not famous like his president, for strenuous government. I speak here, not from my own observation, for this is the one member of the old Faculty in whose class I never sat. He governed by con- cession. I never heard that he gave "demerits," though I suppose he did, for that was the established mode of government in those early days. I imagine that he looked at an offending boy, and brought him to order by a few serious words, accompanied and emphasized by the ominous waving of his long index finger. For that finger certainly did wave, at times, in an impres- sive manner. Often have I heard one or another of his pupils quote: " Honor and fame from no condition rise; Act well your part, 'tis there the honor lies," swaying his index finger in imitation of his master and fashioning his voice in supposed likeness of the master's orotund speech. But Owen was not a gay man, even by contrast with Webster, and Webster with all his apparent austerity had far more fun in his temper. Owen was a scholar and a clergyman, and he wore something of the seriousness of both. Ross was different from both of these. Tall, a little 92 The First Faculty awkward, but erect and dignified, with a forehead like an imposing dome, and a keen eye which held you with a kindly glance, he was, during the short period of his academic life, the favorite of the students. He taught in the Academy only two years and three months, when he died, at the age of fifty-one, after only a week's ill- ness, and in the prime of his life and strength. He was personally known only to the classes of '53 and '54 and a part of the class of '55; but his name was in the mouths of later classes than these, as if they themselves had personally known and loved him. What they used to say of him was that he made the rough places of the mathematics smooth, that the dull boy especially he led up the steep paths, trusting in the ability of the able student to get up with anybody's help, or even with none, that he kept no count of time, but was ready with effective help whenever and wherever it was asked, that he was always full of interest in his pupils, in their past achievements and in the promise of their future career; he was not only a great teacher, but he was the students' friend. Ross was professor, not of Mathematics only, but of Natural Philosophy, which was the name in those days for what we now call Physics. He died before the teaching of Physics began, and his place was filled by another West Point man, Lieut., afterwards Gen. W. B. Franklin. He accepted the position, during a furlough from West Point, and was succeeded by John A. Nichols, after having filled the chair only a few The President's Office, Looking North The judgment-seat stood facing the door in General Webb's day and the General sat underneath where his portrait now hangs. In the anteroom we see to the left the remarkable electric clock, which is fabled to move slower than any other in the city. To the right is the most used telephone in Xew York. 93 The First Faculty 95 months; but this short time was long enough for him to inspire the Senior class with a deep respect. His man- ner was quick, sharp, decisive, his questions were rapid and searching, and his tolerance for dullness and slow- ness was small. He returned to his work at West Point leaving a name spoken of with admiration by the few who knew him. Nichols, who followed him, though not from West Point, was appointed on the recommendation of Pro- fessor Davies, and continued the West Point influence on our mathematical teaching. He was a perennial spring of kindness and good temper, yet he could lose patience once in a while under adequate provocation. He would spend any amount of time on the difficulties of Bartlett's "Analytical Mechanics," a tough volume just introduced from West Point where it was born, and he had plentiful sympathy with those who could not see through all its puzzles at the first trial, though very little with those who made no trial. The pleasant influence of his sweet temper and kindly voice were with us till the fall of '68, when he died, after a long struggle with consumption, and he bridged over the space from the Old Faculty to the New. " The pirate Gibbs, " as the much admired Professor of Chemistry was approvingly called by his pupils, was perhaps the strongest man in the Old Faculty, and he is the only one who still lives. Black-haired, black bearded, black eye-browed and moustached, tall, erect, quiet, firm, he was known to us all as a man devoted 96 The First Faculty to scientific research, not very fond of teaching, but teaching clearly and well, marking severely but fairly, looking on the lecture-room demonstrations which used to be called "experiments" with mildly tolerant impatience and not infrequently apologizing for their failure after they had been carefully prepared. From his chemical lecture-room, which was the identical lecture-room of to-day, he retreated to his little labora- tory under it on the basement floor, where all metallic things rusted, — even aluminium and gold ones I believe, —and we wondered where and how he brought forth those chemical laws enunciated in his papers on the " Cobalt bases" and so on, whose titles mystified us, his pupils, but inspired the respect of his scientific col- leagues throughout the land. When invited to Harvard he exchanged the teaching of the rudiments of chem- istrv for the investigation of its laws, and has since been living the life he dreamed of in his youth. Gerardus B. Docharty was not the solemn and for- midable mathematician his first name might suggest, but rather more the joking, hilarious Irish gentleman prefigured in the second. In his eye was always a mischievous smile, on his tongue a joke or a "sell." He was always reach' to help inquiring students over rough places in their Latin, or their French, and they, on the other hand, often carried to their Latin teachers such puzzles as "Gallus tuus ego et nunquam animam," which after brief inspection were declared to be "some of Dochartv's nonsense." He was a good though not H - The First Faculty 99 perhaps a great teacher; but the boys loved him for his geniality and good nature and his patience with their blunderings, and cheerfully pardoned the rude treatment the skin of their faces sometimes received when he took a head between his hands and scoured a tender cheek with his scrubby gray beard. What a contrast to Docharty was Theodore Irving, nephew of the classical Washington Irving. A clergy- man, with the manners of a well-bred and well-trained rector of the Church of England, a well-dressed, cour- teous, well-spoken gentleman, never hurried, never impatient, never, I think, very enthusiastic, he neither over-stimulated nor discouraged his pupils, and I do not remember ever to have heard of or seen any dis- order, however slight, in his room, — a trait however, that he shared with almost every other member of the Faculty. I think we all felt that our Professor of Drawing, the lightly built Irish artist with graceful figure and movements, sharply but not cruelly biting critical tongue, and clear incisive speech, was most conspicu- ously, of all this Council of Ten, the man of his profes- sion. He developed, we men who could not draw used to think, most astonishingly the skill which seemed natural to some. Their large highly finished drawings, often from the flat, but also often from the heroic casts on our walls, and still more the white chalk figures of the same on the blackboards, sometimes the full height of the board, used to fill us poor bunglers with ioo The First Faculty wonder and envy; but we never thought of blaming him for that our bungling still went on. He gave us some hints on architecture which we always remem- bered, pointed out some buildings that we alwavs admired, and he made himself in art our master, as Ross did in mathematics, and Roemer in French. Our three masters in modern languages were as unlike as it was possible for three teachers to be. Roe- mer was really a "master" in all senses, a strong, firm, self-reliant man, never harboring any fears or misgivings — or perhaps rather, never showing any, for I have a notion that the strongest men have fits of timidity sometimes, — a man of the world, who impressed us with the feeling that he had seen all things, and done all things, and that he knew all things. We felt that he was a leader of men, that he had the art of impressing his opinions on them, and of taking up and supporting their opinions in such a way as to assist in making them effective — and when we afterwards became acquainted with him as a colleague, our estimate of him was con- firmed; we recognized him as a leader in the Faculty. a power in the government of the College. Such was not his mild little colleague Professor Morales. A timid, polite, yielding man, he was essen- tially a f< >11< wer, as Roemer was a leader. He was the very soul of kindness and goodness of heart, to stu- dents as well as to colleagues. His rebukes to imper- fect students were mild expostulations rather than harsh censures, and almost anv kind of recitation would XI C H O o cn o o q Q a! 55 O in fa i : -y> < "* < t 1 rl ■ A if I I — i \ rr~ — - -4 o o 130 c o C/2 The First Faculty IO' command a passing mark. And yet it was always pos- sible to learn Spanish from him if one would, and many graduates of the College have profited greatly by his instruction. He was a man of the gentlest and politest manners, a musician of considerable skill, even in com- position, a writer who produced small plays for his pupils to perform and text-books from which they might learn, and a teacher who was beloved, not only by his best pupils, but even by the mischievous ones who played tricks on him. Glaubensklee, the Professor of German, was cast in a heavier and rougher mould. Like Gibbs, he never was fooled or imposed on by students. His mastery was differently based however. When Gibbs came into a large study-room where three or four sections of stu- dents were ready for fun with any one who was afraid of them, with a scientific periodical or volume in his hand, he sat down and worked as if there were no boys there; but if student Smith began to talk to student Jones, Gibbs never failed to note it, and to bring both, and all other whisperers, to sudden order by the cry, almost without raising his eye from his book, "Stop talking there, Smith. " The boys were convinced that he had some inscrutable means of detecting disorder, and very soon gave up venturing to try it. Glaubens- klee commanded order just as easily, but more I think by the friendly bonhomie with which he was always ready to chat with them when off duty, either in the recitation-room, or wherever he chanced to meet them. 104 The First Faculty On the whole, this Faculty of the old College was a strong body of men. There were among them sub- stantial scholars, great teachers, polished gentlemen, men of the world, strict disciplinarians who never allowed the least disorder, kindly governors with whom no student ever thought of disorder. The students respected them, in general loved them, studied for them, learned cf them. Their departments were not so widely expanded as they have since become, their course of studies was not so broadly laid out, but the)' gave a broad general training with but little election, which was recognized in those days as preparing young men to do their duty in whatever career they might be called to follow. The Old Faculty left its perma- nent mark on the reputation and the traditions of the College. The Second President 105 The Second President Charles E. Lydecker, '71 A LEXANDER STEWART WEBB, second president of the College of the City of New York, was born in New York City, February 15, 1835. His father was James Watson Webb, editor for many years of the Courier and Enquirer; a man of striking appearance, who bore out some of the so-called fire-eating tra- ditions of the fifties, in his newspaper career. He was an officer in the U. S. Army, serving in the infantry and artillery over nine years, was U. S. Minister to Brazil from 1861 to 1869, and author of the famous flag order, then promulgated. His grandfather was Samuel Blatchley Webb, an aide-de-camp on the staff of General Washington, who served from Lexington until he was captured, and remained a pris- oner of war from 1777 to 1780, when he was released and commissioned Brigadier-General. His house in Connecticut was the meeting place of many distin- guished men. Our president was educated at private schools, and 108 The Second President entered West Point in 1 85 1 , from which he was gradu- ated in the class of 1855, along with Gen. George D. Ruggles, Gen. A. T. A. Torbert, Gen. Wm. B. Hazen, and other able soldiers. Within a few weeks after graduation, he was en- gaged in putting down the Seminole Indians in Florida, as an officer of artillery, and had some of the most exciting experiences of his life. After service in Minnesota, he became assistant professor of mathematics at the U. S. Military Acad- emy at West Point, and junior officer in Griffin's West Point Battery. Assigned by his regimental com- mander to Light Battery "A," 2d U. S. Artillery, April 1, 1 86 1, he proceeded under orders from the War Department with the battery, Capt. W. F. Barry com- manding, to Fort Pickens, Santa Rosa Island, Flor- ida. He was present at the first battle of Bull Run, and later accepted the appointment of Captain in the nth U. S. Infantry. In August he was ordered to report for duty in the Artillery Department of the army afterwards designated the "Army of the Poto- mac." Later in the same year, he was mustered into the U. S. service as Major, 1st Rhode Island Light Artillery, and remained on duty at headquarters, Army of the Potomac, as assistant to the Chief of Artillery, until appointed by the President, Assistant Inspector- General of the 5th Corps, with the rank of Lieutenant- Colonel, August 30, 1862. He was Assistant Inspector-General and Chief of ^^Lurses, so as to maintain the supply necessary to keep the College alive. During the years 1895 an ^ 1897, when the earnest and suc- cessful efforts of the friends of the College, led by its Alumni Asso- ciation, were made to procure the legislation for a new site, there was no one who gave more continuous and intelligent application to the accomplishment of the work than the President of the Col- lege, never thwarting but always aiding that movement, and when finally in 1898 the supplementary act had to be passed to provide the additional sum of $200,000, General Webb's per- sonal aid on the floor of the Senate was instrumental in having the The Second President 131 bill taken up out of its course on the last day of the session, thus insuring its successful passage. It was an exciting moment, when, in the hurry and strug- gle and bustle of the last hours of the legislature, Mr. Ellsworth, the leader of the Senate, taking the distinguished President of the College on the floor of the Senate, and introducing him as the hero of Gettysburg, asked unanimous consent to pass out of its order the bill which had come from the Assembly after over a week's careful watching and urging, and in a few minutes the w< >rk of its adoption was done. General Webb was a conspicuous defender of the College from what he regarded as the injurious attacks of Universities— so-called "Universities in distress," whose aim and purpose was to invade the college classes, and get recruits from them for their institutions. Edu- cators the world over have come to know of the exist- ence of those alleged benefactors, whose purpose is apparently more to benefit teachers and professors than the youth in search of education. In one of his papers, which was earnestly approved by Chancellor Anson J. Upson, of New York, and which embodies the argument he so long urged, he said: Colleges will differ according to their especial objects and loca- tion, but not in the essential lines of instruction. Every college graduate is to-day as good a man as any other college graduate, or he is, in his own estimation, a little better than any other col- lege graduate. The term is a well known one and we must respect the title, and see to it that no reputable college reduces its course, or changes its general course in a way to bring contempt on the Bachelor's degree. But the advocate of the elective course comes in and tells us that we are all wrong. Parts of our course studied i3 2 The Second President in excess are better for this man and that man than the whole course. One cannot conceive how the plan proposed could tend to produce harmony amid all these conflicting interests. AVe sin- cerely deplore that we must differ conscientiously from high authorities in matters which refer to the policy to be adopted by our institutions of higher education, but, at this time, it is espe- cially necessary to be plain spoken against invasions of the present college course as arranged by the best minds of the coun- try, and to express determined hostility to the abuse of the elec- tive system, leading as it does to these discussions, when this system is applied to students not of the university grade. It would have been gratifying to General Webb and to his students if he could have conducted them to the new City College on the Heights, but a wave of opposition was felt to beat against the progress of affairs under the new regime in 1902, which indicated a contest from which the gentlemanly instincts of this high-minded officer shrank, and he laid down the office to retire to private life. No less, however, do the great body of students who knew him during his thirty-three years of leadership respect the ideal which he em- bodied, of truth, loyalty, steadfastness, honorable am- bition, and manliness, coupled with genuine collegiate scholarship, and faith in the usefulness of the first City College of the land, as a people's college. He found the College with 768 students, and left it with 1969. The language of the students' tribute to him was: And we who have known the General so well, will ever remem- "o i-3 •* e , ^ V 3 B Efl Tt, >. a 3 w O - -r fc a> u ■*j (— H a 5 c ft o - o Ih 42 ,£) rt c "« The Later Faculty 147 When President Webb succeeded President Webster, in 1869, the president was relieved of the work of teaching, and Professor Huntsman became Professor of Philos- ophy. He occupied the chair for ten years, when he retired. Dr. Hermann Koerner was in 185 1 appointed substitute for Professor Duggan, who was away on account of sickness. On Duggan' s return a year later, a new department, Descriptive Geometry and Indus- trial Drawing, was created, evidently because Dr. Koerner was too valuable a man to lose and too vener- able a man for the rank of tutor. Venerable ? He was not yet fifty years old, but his hair was white, having turned so in a night during the Revolution of '48. Dr. Koerner was a political exile. He was, as every German of his generation was, a philosopher, and he preached idealism fifty years before Prince Henry of Prussia. He never acquired an English tongue, but made himself understood, and when, after the death of Professor Duggan, the two departments became one again, Professor Koerner even delivered lectures on esthetics, "Art and its division into Arts" he entitled the course. He was the first and for man}- years the only professor in the College who had the foreign degree Ph.D., as he was the first and for many years the only professor in the College who used the not yet natural- ized word Pedagogy. Professor Koerner added strength to the Faculty and was in many ways an interesting man, nor without a picturesque trait, not inappropriate 148 The Later Faculty in an exponent of art. To the younger students he seemed queer; the older students came to recognize the depth of his character and thought and to sympa- thize with his sentiments. Professor Koerner retired in 1877. Dr. John Christopher Draper followed Professor Doremus as Professor of Natural History. More hours were assigned to the department; physiology could be treated more fully, the study of botany and zoology was added, and — what is perhaps most interesting, seeing that it was done over forty years ago — blowpipe analysis, the experimental study of minerals by the students themselves in a rudimentary laboratory, was introduced. Professor Draper was not apt to overrate the young men and their performances; yet he did not fail to discover ability and merit and to recognize them cheer- fully. Two weeks before his death, in the spring of 1885, — though he had no premonition and was evi- dently talking without ulterior purpose, — he spoke to a colleague of his experience in the College and of his relations with the students. ' They have been good to me, thev have always treated me well." Let the students' estimate of the professor implied in his praise of them stand in place of other opinion; it seems sufficient. When in 1869 Professor Owen died the pro- fessorship of Latin and Greek was divided, and Jesse Ames Spencer, S. T. D., the well-known clas- Prof. Huntsman in '70. Prof. Scott in 'So. Prof. Xewcomb in '84. Prof. Draper in '70. Prof. Fabrf.gon in 1902. Prof. Spencer in 'S6. Prof. Mason in '89. 149 Prof. Sturgis in '8i. Prof. Hardy in '94. Prof. "vVoolf in 'So. The Later Faculty 15 1 sical scholar, was elected Professor of the Greek Lan- guage and Literature. He occupied the chair ten years. David Burnet Scott was principal of the grammar school which had been sending the second largest classes to the College when in 1871 he was appointed Principal of the Introductory (sub- Freshman) Depart- ment. Then the first attempt at the separation of the academic department was made. The building on Twenty-second Street had, in these first years of President Webb's administration, been erected and arranged for the accommodation of the sub-Freshmen. The top floor, later known as Natural History Hall, was the assembly room and portions of it were recitation- rooms during the day. The young boys did not disturb the scholastic calm of the main building; they never entered it except when they came, under supervision, to the first floor to listen to Professor Doremus and behold his magnificent experi- ments. When Professor Barton died, in 1877, Professor Scott was elected his successor — and no new principal was appointed. Professor Scott had long been a student of English literature and had lectured thereon with marked suc- cess to the teachers' classes instituted by the Board of Education before the establishment of the Nor- mal College. He continued to evince during the: seventeen years of his professorate — he died in 1894 — the same traits of intellectual keenness and force, the 152 The Later Faculty same individuality and personal strength which had characterized him as a principal. He made himself felt among men, and he exerted a strong influence on boys and young men. George Benton Newcomb succeeded Professor Huntsman in the chair of philosophy in 1879 and served the College until his death in the fall of 1895. Professor Newcomb was a native of New York and a graduate of Williams College. For some years after graduation he was a journalist; then, for a series of years, a clergyman, the pastor of a church in a Connecticut town. He taught the Junior and Senior classes personally, the former in economics and law, the latter in psychology and the history of philosophy. He was a scholarly man, endeavored to get his students both to think and to read, and generally succeeded. In addition to de- livering lectures and appointing and hearing lessons in text-books, he set individual students individual tasks and gave them individual opportunities according to their abilities and needs. He was seldom seen on his way to and from college without his satchel, in which he carried the books and pamphlets for this individualized instruction and the papers which the students wrote —indeed, were proud to write — at the periodical exam- inations or tests scattered through the term, which he held to a greater extent than had been customary in his department or was customary in most departments. James Weir Mason was Professor of Mathematics from 1879 to 1902. He was a graduate of our own Col- The Chemical Library. Private room and library of the Chemical Department, for fifty years the sanctum of Professor Doremus. 153 The Later Faculty 155 lege in the class of 1855. The twenty-four years between his graduation and his return, he spent partly as a teacher, partly as a mathematician, having been Prin- cipal of the old Albany Academy and Actuary of the Massachusetts and the Penn Life Insurance Compa- nies. As a young man, as a man, as an old man, he was serious, faithful, earnest with the Kingsley earnestness, a lover of literature, at home in romance and history and poetry, seldom at fault as to the authorship of a verse and generally able to complete the stanza. At the start and during the first twenty-five years of the college, mathematics was, in a sense, the leading study; it was obligatory to the same extent on all students. Then came a change. The classical course was dif- ferentiated from the scientific, the natural and experi- mental sciences, here as elsewhere, assumed greater proportions. And when Professor Mason came, he hoped to accomplish and he found that many expected him to accomplish under the new conditions what tradition said had been accomplished under the old. He himself adhered to the high standard of his own student days; he upheld it so far as it could be upheld in a modern faculty and a modern college not yet committed to electives (in which only the mathemat- ically minded take mathematics beyond the elements, and a larger portion succeed). Anxious, like other good and loyal teachers, to save those of the weaker students who were not past redemption, he formed — for years, if not to the end — special volunteer classes to i56 The Later Faculty whom for a month before examination he gave supple- mentary instruction and drill several times a week, out- side the regular college hours (and, of course, without fee). He labored in a transition period, but his true mind never lost its temper, and his incisive, earnest teaching bore ( if, in speaking of a man of pure literarv taste, the metaphor may be changed) good fruit. The Life of the College 157 The Beginnings James R. Steers, '53 TJAVING been requested to give some reminiscences of my school- days and my impressions of the Free Academy, now the City College, I shall begin with some few instances of early childhood showing the condition of public schools at that time. My earliest school- days were in a little school kept by a lady friend of my parents, who had, perhaps, eight or ten other pupils. When I was about six my mother took me to the Public School in Fifth Street, between Avenue C and Avenue D, the principal of which was Mr. Abraham Van Vleck, a thin sandv- haired man, who to my childish mind seemed the incar- nation of severity and dignity. My mother led me up to the platform, and to test my acquirements, to see whether I was a fit subject to be admitted, I was required to read several verses from the Bible, which I accomplished to the satisfaction of Mr. Van Vleck, and I was duly enrolled as a member of the Junior Sixth class, the lowest of the school. 159 160 College Life — The Beginnings I remained at this school about five years and, in spite of strong efforts on my part to be promoted, I never rose above the Junior Seventh. The classes were Junior Sixth and Senior Sixth, Junior Seventh and Senior Seventh, Junior Eighth and Senior Eighth, Junior Ninth and Senior Ninth. Those were the days of flogging and the more serious misdemeanors that schoolboys are prone to were visited by a punishment with the rattan. Mr. Van Vleck had a unique and varied assortment of rattans, shaved to different degrees of thinness, which seemed to me to be adjusted to the age of the misdemeanants. After I had been in the school for a year or more, there grew upon my mind a feeling of resentment against what I thought was the injustice with which I was treated. I saw boys who were, I knew, not as well qualified for promotion as myself, advanced, and strive as I would and work as hard as I could, I never seemed to be able to get along. I do not recollect that I was punished very much with the rattan. I enjoyed a more ingenious form of punishment. Boys who had been guilty of unnecessary talking, or some such trifling thing, were made to stand holding out at arm's length heavy slates for an hour or so at a time. All our writing of the lower classes was done on these slates, and when I was about eight, steel pens were first introduced into the school. Up to that time, the upper class boys had used quills, which were prepared for them by Mr. Van Vleck or some of his assistants. a 13 Ph J -co a o w Pi 43 o College Life — The Beginnings 163 The boys were required to buy their own steel pens, a factory for which was started across the street from the school. My great ambition at that time was to be promoted from slate writing to copy-book writing, but this I was not able to accomplish so long as I remained in the school. The boys would write on their slates sentences ordinarily quoted, like "Evil communica- tions corrupt good manners," and submit them to Mr. Van Vleck and ask to be promoted to the dignity of a copy-book. I did that a number of times, but my application was invariably rejected, although the bovs around me said that my writing was better than that of a great many of the others who had been promoted. There was one boy among us who helped other boys to the much-desired copy-book by writing their task for them and these were invariably successful. Despair- ing of getting the desired promotion in any other way, I got him to write some copies for me en my slate. I took them to Mr. Van Vleck, feeling I was sure of promotion this time, but to my dismay he rejected my application again. This school was one of the original Public Schools, so-called, established and supported by the Public School Society. When I was about eleven years old the city began to build its own Common Schools. About this time Common School No. 5 had just been finished and stood at the corner of Stanton and Sheriff streets, in a delectable neighborhood of rag pickers, drinking saloons, and breweries. As soon as the building 164 College Life — The Beginnings was ready for occupancy I was transferred there, and upon examination by the Principal, Mr. Seneca Durand, to my astonishment I was immediately put into the highest class in the school and then I received my first realizing sense of what good teaching was. Mr. Durand himself was a good teacher, though not a highly edu- cated man. For arithmetic we went to a New Englander by the name of Hall, whose method was clearness itself and under whom it was a great pleasure to sit. I use his method with vulgar fractions to this day. In this school I remained between four and five years. I had finished the whole course of studies in 1847, in fact a year before, but I stayed as a sort of occupation, my parents thinking I was too young to go to work. In the summer of 1848 I would have left the school, but my parents learning of the proposed establishment of the Free Academy, now the College of the City of New York, it was suggested that I should not leave school until the new academy was reach' to receive my appli- cation for admission. The interior arrangement of Mr. Durand's school was somewhat similar to that of the old public school, that is to say, it had a large assembly room with a gallery in the rear, with class-rooms under it and at either side of the platform. This platform stood in the middle of the assembly room at the other end and oppo- site the gallery. There was a broad aisle down the middle of the large room and two broad side aisles. The desks were arranged on both sides between the At Work in the Research Laboratory. Taken while the members of the Chemical Department were engaged on some important investigations for the City Government. 163 College Life — The Beginnings 167 middle and side aisles. Boys did not have separate desks. There were long desks, each arranged for twelve pupils. At the end toward the side aisles of each was a raised desk at which a boy, usually one of a higher class, sat on a tall stool, so that he could over- 1< ><)k all the boys sitting on the lower seats. These seats were small oval stools, without backs, the legs of which were set in a board on the floor. There were six seats fastened to one board, and six to another, making twelve to each long desk. Each boy had a little open drawer in front of him where he put his books, or his luncheon or what not, and in winter he jammed his hat in there and also his overcoat if he had one. There were no janitors in those days and the good boys were allowed, as a matter of favor, to stay in after school and sweep and dust the schoolroom, in which sweeping and dusting I took my part with a great deal of pleasure. In each class-room was a sort of easel, upon which was placed a large board of wood painted black. Upon this the teacher would write or explain the sums from the arithmetic, and sometimes a boy would be called up "to do a sum." The chalk was ahvays a small irregular piece like that used by a carpenter. The rubber or wiper of the board was a more or less soiled rag. The selection of the school-books was very largely under the control of the principal, who, as he used to say, could usually get new books for the school from 1 68 College Life — The Beginnings publishers on condition of giving up the use of the old ones. Our principal, Mr. Durand, was a fine singer, with a beautiful voice, and he trained the boys in singing the tenor and bass parts of many old English glees, and also taught the girls, who had the floor below ours, the soprano and alto parts. At the close of the school each summer there was a grand concert, with quartettes and duets sung by the boys and girls, accompanied on the piano by one of the teachers, and with some rousing choruses. In December of 1848 I went up to the Free Academy with a certificate from my principal and applied for admission. Those who had applied were assembled in what was called the chemical lecture-room, and the President, Dr. Horace Webster, called one applicant after another, gave each a number, and directed him to a certain class-room to be examined. It seemed to me that he was very slow in doing this. I grew a little impatient and thought I would discover, if I could, whether there was any method in his order of selection. I soon noticed that the boys who were making a noise or talking were selected, as I then thought, to get rid of them, so I immediately began to talk and at once was called up and was g'ven a number, 43, by which I was known in all my examinations. The first room to which I was sent was the room of Pro- fessor Ross, professor of mathematics, and I still remember the impression he made upon me. He was o c be c o o College Life — The Beginnings 171 tall, somewhat ungainly, with an old-fashioned turn- down collar and a sort of rambling necktie or hand- kerchief tied around his neck, with an unstarched shirt front; rather rambling clothes, so to speak; but he had a fine amiable countenance, bright blue eyes, a high impressive forehead, and a general air of kindness, dig- nity, and one might also say knowledge. He always addressed us as "men" to our great pleasure. The room filled me with amazement. All around the room on the walls were blackboards of slate. In a little shelf at the bottom running along the base of the blackboards were sheep-wool rubbers with handles and small pencils of chalk, and I involuntarily contrasted this magnificence with the simplicity of the school from which I had just come. The sum or problem given to all those at the boards, about twenty I should think, was to extract the square root of .5. I worked this out with some difficulty and announced my answer, which, to my surprise, was pronounced correct. There- upon my card was marked and I was dismissed from that examination. The other examinations I do not particularly recall. Attending upon notice, full of tremors, sometime afterwards, I was informed by the venerable Doctor that I was admitted and was asked which course of study I would select, one with the ancient languages, or one with modern languages. I selected the course with ancient languages. As most boys do, perhaps, unknown to their teachers, 172 College Life — The Beginnings I began almost involuntarily to study the characters of the principal and the teachers to whom I recited, and inasmuch as they have all passed away it may perhaps be no impropriety if I give my youthful impressions of them and of the internal arrangements of the Academy. If my surprise at finding slate blackboards and the rubbers and chalk was great, my surprise was still greater at what were to me the luxurious appointments of the class-rooms. In these rooms each student had a revolving stool, with a back, and, so. to speak, an indi- vidual desk which instead of being of pine grained to resemble oak was of cherry, or some other natural wood, and these finely furnished desks and seats gave an air to me of great luxury. The heating apparatus, the hot air system, was another great surprise. The heat in my school was from great coal stoves, one in each class- room and several large stoves in the large room. All the appointments of the Free Academy were so fine and su- perior in comparison with that of the school I came from that it was a long time before I came to look upon them as a matter of course. Doctor Webster was an honorable, high-minded gen- tleman but, while a fine disciplinarian, was, in my opin- ion, a very poor teacher. As he graduated very high in his class at West Point, he was undoubtedly a well educated man, but he lacked that indefinable thing, the power of teaching, of stimulating the minds of the stu- dents to take an interest in the subject under considera- tion, the power of clear thinking as to the best way of Second Floor Corridor. View to the north, showing '85's Memorial Window, side glimpse of the Ichthy- osaurus, and the series of art photographs ranged along the wall. 173 College Life — The Beginnings 175 communicating knowledge to those minds, and the power of clear, succinct expression. Our class had opportunities to study him when he taught us in his own branch. Moral Philosophy, or in other subjects in the absence of some of the other teachers. Professor Ross was in some respects the best teacher I ever sat under. He also was a West Point graduate and stood high in his class. In fact, the whole atmos- phere of the Free Academy, when I was there, was strongly suggestive of West Point. During the last year I was at school one of the teachers took up for the highest class the study of algebra. Study as I would I could make nothing of it under him. When I went up to the Free Academy I had a dread of beginning that study; but under Ross not only algebra, but geometry, descriptive geometry, analytical geometry, and plane trigonometry became to me as simple as A-B-C. When our class had reached trigonometry Professor Ross was taken ill and died soon after. Doctor Webster took our class in mathematics for a few months and it was unfor- tunate, perhaps, that he should follow such a teacher as Ross, for the contrast between his methods, if one may call them such, and Ross's was too striking not to make a great impression on me, at least, and apparently on the whole class. Ross's place was subsequently taken by Wiiliam B. Franklin, another West Pointer, after- wards one of the prominent generals in the Civil War. on the Union side. He conducted our studies for six months, in the mathematics of mechanics, such as the i7 6 College Life — The Beginnings inclined plane, the wheel and axle, and the pulley. We used " Bar tlett's Mechanics," written in the synthetic method. Franklin was a fine teacher, with a manner, however, quite different from Ross's, not so suave nor sympa- thetic, but with a method somewhat after the military style. For instance, the students would be seated in the class-room; Franklin would enter, a tall, erect, broad shouldered, handsome man, the students having their books open, cramming for the recitation. The moment he sat down would come the order, ' ' Down your books," then he would say, "Steers, take the floor," and I would immediately inarch out and stand midway between him and the students in the rear of me, and he would catechize me upon the lesson. He \\( >uld not limit himself always to the immediate lesson, but would ask questions collateral to, or which might be deduced from, the particulars stated in the books. While one might answer, if one had time to think, his manner was very apt to nonplus the students, espe- cially those who did not have their lessons very well committed to memory. He was a man of clear mind, clear expression, knew what he wanted, and even if his method savored more of the driving than the enticing. he was a fine teacher. After him in that department came Professor Nichols, a mild, gentle, amiable gentleman, not with the power of either Franklin or Ross, but with a clear and sufficient knowledge of the subject to carry the class a 3 >> .P o College Life — The Beginnings 179 into spherical geometry and trigonometry, astronomy, and the calculus. Our Professor of English Language and Literature was the Reverend Theodore Irving, a nephew of Wash- ington Irving, a slender man, with beautiful dark brown eyes, intellectual face, somewhat scant}- dark hair, and in every way a refined and cultivated gentleman. I think the class enjoyed the sessions with Professor Irving as much if not more than with almost any other professor in the Academy. He seemed, to me at least, to have a very broad and full acquaintance with English lit- erature, and his rhetoric and spoken English were per- fect, without any trace of pedantry. When Professor Irving resigned his professorship to become the rector of Saint Ann's Church on Staten Island, Professor Barton was appointed to succeed him. Professor Barton was another gentlemanly, cultured man, of great dignity and reserve. The recitations under him, to me, were much less interesting than they had been under Irving. They were chiefly recitations, with very little discursive criticism of the writers or their styles, which, as I remember, we had enjoyed under Irving. Our Professor of Chemistry and Physics was Doctor Oliver Wolcott Gibbs, who came to us, I think, almost fresh from his studies under Liebig. He was a remark- ably handsome man, dark, with almost black hair, finely cut features, clear complexion, blue eyes, and a certain air, one might almost call aristocratic in his general man- i8o College Life — The Beginnings ner. He was not what seemed to me a great although he was a good teacher. His strength lay rather in scientific investigations in his department than in teaching. He was a little impatient of the time lost in preparing ex- periments for his class, which sometimes succeeded and at other times did not, just for lack of preliminary prep- aration, but at the same time he made the subjects he taught very interesting to me, and, as it seemed to me, to most of the members of the class, except one, who would persist in apparently going to sleep. He would be awakened by the cry, " , don't go to sleep," which angered him and caused us much amusement. This gentleman has subsequently become a very promi- nent lawyer. I enjoyed the mathematics under Ross and the chemistry and physics under Gibbs more than any other studies. Gibbs subsequently left the Acad- emy and became famous at Harvard University. The Professor of Latin and Greek, Doctor John J. Owen, was undoubtedly a very learned man in his sub- jects, and he was what might be called a fair teacher, but his manner was dry and uninteresting, to me at least, and, so far as I remember, he rarely smiled and he seemed to be absorbed in his Greek and Latin studies, and especially in his Greek books, which we used in our studies. Of course, it is understood that I am only giving my own impressions, which it is quite possible were wrong because of my immaturity. I did not enjoy the lessons under Doctor Owen for C 1> * g X. C t— - aj a -a HE College Life — The Beginnings 183 two reasons: First, owing to a defective verbal mem- ory, it was not easy for me to commit words literally to memory. If I could work out a result from premises or facts, I could retain the result in my memory, but a naked statement, even though expressing a fine thought, would not stick in my memory, except after great study and innumerable repetitions. The second reason was the entire absence of a feeling of sympathy between Dr. Owen and myself, the cause of which was quite possibly in myself. There was a Professor of Drawing, Mr. Paul Peter Duggan, a slender, pale gentleman, with big, sad gray eyes, and a general air of physical feebleness, but an artist to the tips of his fingers. I enjoyed the drawing very much, perhaps because of a long line of ship- build- ing ancestors. If I remember aright I was, much to my surprise, awarded the prize for drawing (my only prize) upon graduation. Among other studies which I disliked was ancient history. I cannot now recall the professor or assistant professor to whom we recited, but I know the whole sub- ject was dreary to me, because it consisted of commit- ting to memory a large volume of stories of individuals, kings and warriors, with whom I felt no special sympa- thy, and this process was to me dreary drudgery. I am not sorry to say that not a trace of it, so far as I can discover, remains with me to this day. In the second or third year, I forget which, some proportion of our class took up Spanish under Professor 184 College Life — The Beginnings Morales, a small, dignified gentleman, with the typical black hair and eyes of his nation, a man who was extremely sensitive, but a good teacher, and while I still found difficult)" in committing arbitrary words and sounds to memory, yet I enjoyed studying with Pro- fessor Morales, as he was a kindly, sympathetic teacher. About the same time our class took up the study of German under Professor Theodore Glaubensklee, a typ- ical Teuton, who might be called, without intending dis- respect, a mechanical teacher. That stud}- 1 also enjoyed to a degree — not quite so much though as the study of Spanish — but it was still open to the same objections that I had to other studies which required the commit- ting to memory of words and sounds which had no con- nection with any process of reasoning. The result was that while my lessons in mathematics and in chemistry and physics were a pleasure, all the other lessons were hard, and in order to get them I was obliged to study from five to six hours outside of the regular hours of the Academy. Our hours at the Academy were from nine to three five days in the week, with an intermission of half an hour from twelve to half past twelve, and a half day on Saturday. Saturday, was I think, usually given up to orator\' with an instructor, who was, if I may speak as I think, a pompous incompetent. He indulged in the flowing gestures of the arms and the old elocutionary modulation of the voice and more or less ungraceful poses of the body, which were, perhaps, considered a o _i if. '/- u O ^3 C *-> u C ID 1) O College Life — The Beginnings 187 absolutely necessary elements of oratory in those days, but which struck me as being rather absurd. I am afraid that I was deficient in a proper respect for some of my teachers while in the College, which sometimes led to my discomfiture. I recall one circum- stance in Professor Ross's room when he, having a severe cold, called in an assistant, a Mr. Palmer, to con- duct his lessons while he himself sat there, to supervise, in a way, the recitation. I had a proposition in geom- etry to recite, and I thought a remark or question by Palmer to be foolish. I answered him in a rather flip- pant manner, whereupon Ross instantly arose to his feet and, with an expression of almost wounded dignity, chided me for my lack of respect and in his deep serious manner said that I should treat Mr. Palmer with just as much respect as I treated him. Feeling that I was in the wrong, and having no defence, I said nothing. My lack of respect for my teachers unless they showed men- tal power or ability appeared on several occasions in my relations with Doctor Webster. It was not long after my entrance before I realized that his system of discipline consisted very largely in magnifying tri- fling violations of rules which it is often best not to appear to see; and his severe and almost imperious manner, developed by military training, was, to me at least, very unpleasant. While I might, and proba- bly did, violate some of the rules, yet I would never admit that I was in a sense disobedient or disorderly, but from the first I felt an utter lack of kindly sympathy i88 College Life — The Beginnings between the Doctor and myself. That lack of sympa- thy showed itself on several occasions in a greater or less degree, but one of the more striking examples of it which I now recall happened in this wise: The boys used to run races in the recess hour around Gramercy Park, which then had an earth walk all around it. One of the students in our class was a great favorite with the Doctor, partly because he was a very well behaved young man and partly because he studied to win the Doctor's good favor by a kind of obsequiousness which did not bring him into favor with the other students. Upon one occasion, when I w r as chasing a boy around Gramercy Square, and had nearly captured him, this student, who by the way wore glasses, suddenly ap- peared in my way. He was walking aimlessly and re- gardless of the racers, and I was rather vexed at losing my prey, so with my open hand I slapped his face, knocking his glasses into the Park through the railing, partly to get him out of my path and partly by way of resentment. I immediately stopped and made a long search for the glasses, but could not find them. In a short time I was summoned by the Doctor, with my victim as the complainant. The Doctor stated what the complaint was and asked me if that was correct, and I said it was. He asked me why I did it, and I told him frankly of my vexation at being interrupted. The Doc- tor immediately lectured me on the impropriety of my behavior and after he had finished I stated to him as mildly as I could, because I was feeling a little vexed, ~-r. a o o si M o p College Life — The Beginnings 191 that I did not think the authority of the college officers extended beyond the limits of the college building and grounds. His face flushed and in very angry tones he announced that we "were always under the authority of the college officers." I repeated my former state- ment, insisting that I only considered myself subject to their authority when I was either in the college or in the college grounds. The Doctor seemed at a loss for words for a time and then exclaimed, "How, how, you are all wrong." In a moment of diplomacy I gave my victim a dollar for a pair of glasses and the incident was closed. On another occasion, the Doctor, being fond of en- couraging military exercises among the students, ap- proved of the formation of a military squad of about twelve or fifteen students, which was under the com- mand of Mr. Nicholas Babcock, a student. This squad were armed with wooden guns and they used to drill in Twentv-third Street and on Lexington Avenue during part of the recess hour. Four or five members of my class, including myself, took it into our heads to test the military skill and proficiency of this squad, and form- ing ourselves into what used to be called the Macedo- nian phalanx, now called the flying wedge, with myself at the apex of the triangle, we charged the army under Captain Babcock, pierced its centre, and drove it into full retreat. Captain Babcock duly made his complaint to the Doctor and we were all haled before him, and I, as the apex of the triangle, was required to give an 19 2 College Life — The Beginnings explanation of our disorderly conduct. Recalling to mind such military terms as I could remember, I in sub- tance told the Doctor that we had become interested in military manoeuvres, and having in our studies learned about the Macedonian phalanx, thought it a fine oppor- tunity to try its efficacy, and seeing what we thought was a good opportunity to put our theories in practice, we drove the phalanx against Captain Babcock's squad, resulting in the defeat of the squad. It took all the Doctor's self-possession to refrain from smiling, but I could see a twinkle in his eye, an unusual thing for him, and after a few words of reproval the Macedo- nian phalanx was dismissed. Our class was named Class A, admitted in January, 1849. There was a summer examination for admission in 1849 arR l Class B was admitted. At admission our class numbered about one hundred and forty. I do not remember the number in Class B, but at the end of a year and a half or two years both classes had been so reduced by students failing to pass subsequent examina- tions and bv those leaving, that the two classes were united; so that while those of A spent four and a half years in the Academy, those of B spent only four. Among the students of Class B. was Mr. Alfred G. Compton. There was nothing remarkable in Comp- ton's appearance except a very sandy head of hair, a very freckled face, and a somewhat short stature, but when he was called upon to recite in any of our studies, it was a very close thing between him and John Hardy, College Life — The Beginnings 195 Charles L. Holt, and Benjamin S. Raynor. I think Hardy had the better verbal memory, but in no other respect was he superior to Compton or Holt. When either Hardy, Holt, or Compton, and particularly Comp- ton, was called to the board to recite in mathematics, there arose in my mind mingled feelings of envy and pleasure; envy because I could not do the thing so well, and pleasure because the thing was so well done. Those four, Hardy, Raynor, Compton, and Holt, were our ban- ner students, but Raynor was only a memorizer, and he was mentally far inferior to the others. The honor men of our class were in this order: Hardy, Raynor, Compton, Holt, Steers. Our amusements consisted chiefly in races around Gramercy Square, and around the Academy building. There was an open space all around it about the width of the present dooryards on Twenty-third Street, and the boys, especially the younger ones, were very much given to shouting and racing and sometimes wrestling there. The Doctor, in pursuance of his minute system of discipline, usually stood in the middle of the walk leading from Twenty-third Street into the building, partly for the purpose of stopping the racing across the walk, and partly for the purpose of detecting the cul- prits and demeriting them. He was not at all a strik- ing object as he stood there, bald-headed, with his thin gray hair blown about by the breeze, furtively watch- ing whom he might identify, and the boys racing past him when his back was turned. 19 6 College Life — The Beginnings Another of our amusements was playing "knuckle all over" in Twenty-third Street, between Third and Lexington avenues. One can fancy the primitive state of things when twenty or thirty boys could play "knuckle all over" with a powerfully thrown ball through Lexington Avenue with no one to forbid, no policeman in sight, few, if any, houses, in the neighbor- hood. If I remember rightly the street was unpaved. Another of our amusements when we came to a holiday, generally during the May week or on Saturday after the morning session, were the boating parties on the East River to Riker's Island. The several preparations for these excursions were allotted to sub-committees. The committee of the whole generally comprised Hardy, Holt, Compton, Brant, and myself. I think Compton was the committee on res frumentaria, Brant the com- mittee on liquid refreshments, Hard)- was on complex apprehension, vulgarly known as a pack of cards, Holt I forget, and mine was the committee on boat and the tides. The means of reaching the College or Academy in those days were very primitive. Some lived in Harlem and could only reach the Academy by means of omni- buses or stages, which ran, I think, every half- hour or hour. My home was in Seventh Street, near the East River, and my only means of getting to the Academy was to walk, a little less than two miles. The walks during the spring and fall were very pleasant. In the winter heavy snows and storms made it rather I 1 H ■Wil>hEuf _> o .r: 2: '•j -z O -4-> z o w -; p 1 : Z Ph X. w fi ^ cd Oi | *-» u -^ 2 W ■«-> >-) Q