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flDemodal Services 
 
 jfor tbe 
 
 Xate Dean of tbe /IDeMcal College 
 
 ot Syracuse 'Clniversit^ 
 
 Sr. (iaglor& faraons €lark 
 
 •fcelO at tbe 
 5obn Grouse College, Syracuse, IRew l^orh 
 
 Sunbap afternoon, October Sixth 
 
 ■fflineteen "fcunDreD anD Seven 
 
 Cbancellor James 1R. Bap 
 
 ffiresiDinfl 
 

®rber of JExerdece 
 
 Reading of the First Psalm 
 The Lord's Prayer 
 
 Address Acting Dean John W, Heffron 
 
 Associated with him in his profession, and at the 
 Medical College. 
 
 Address ♦ » . Honorable M. E. Driscoll 
 
 A fellow student with him at Williams College. 
 
 Address Professor Charles W, Hargitt 
 
 Associated with him in scientific research. 
 
 Address Chancellor James R. Day 
 
J!ddre$$ of Acting Dean 3obn W. Beffron 
 
 Mr. Chancellor and Friends: 
 
 This company of men and women would not have 
 assembled to do honor to the life and character of an 
 ordinary man. 
 
 The ordinary man is committed to the earth, his 
 elemental mother, and forgetfulness begins at the 
 brink of the open grave. Except in the hearts of a 
 few, he is thereafter but a memory that becomes fainter 
 and fainter and is soon obliterated : as the widening 
 circles that momentarily disturb the waters of a pool 
 into whose depths a pebble has been cast quickly sub- 
 side and leave the surface placid as before. 
 
 But there have been men whose lives have come 
 into such close contact with so many, whose characters 
 have been so pure and inspiring, whose acts have 
 been so true and without the shadow of disappoint- 
 ment, and whose influence for the betterment of their 
 kind and of their community has been so far reaching 
 that they can never be forgotten and whom genera- 
 tions who have come after them have delighted to 
 honor. 
 
 All histories contain the names of such. The 
 world has its universal heroes — men to whom it has 
 been given to do great things for the good of all human- 
 ity. Nations have their heroes and by common con- 
 sent set apart sacred days upon which they recall 
 their virtues and their services for the inspiration 
 
and emulation of their citizens. Communities have 
 their local leaders whose characters and deeds are 
 memorialized in bronze and in marble and the his- 
 tories of whose achievements, and the lessons of whose 
 lives are taught to succeeding generations. Great 
 Institutions have their historic men, and preserve 
 with loving care the annals of their lives and count 
 them among their richest possessions. 
 
 The College of Medicine of Syracuse University, 
 under whose auspices we are met together, has a 
 distinguished company of great souls who have laid 
 down the burden of their work and have passed on 
 before. We, their survivors and inheritors, admit to 
 that noble company to-day one more of the great and 
 good and true, Gaylord Parsons Clark, who departed 
 this life September i, 1907. 
 
 It is difficult to speak of him as gone from us. 
 The spell of his presence is still on us. We wait as 
 though he was still upon a journey from which he 
 must return. But we wait in vain. "He has out- 
 soared the shadows of our night." "He is a portion 
 of that loveliness which once he made more lovely. ' ' 
 
 Gaylord Parsons Clark was born in Syracuse, 
 November 12, 1856. He was the only child of the 
 late Hon. Charles P. Clark and Aurelia Knowlton, his 
 wife. From his father he inherited the sturdy honesty, 
 strength of purpose and industry which has character- 
 ized so many descendants of New England stock. 
 From his mother he received the gift of delicate per- 
 ceptions of beauty and a graciousness of manner that 
 characterized him in all his relations of life. 
 
 He was never remarkable for physical strength, 
 
but maintained so good a degree of health that he 
 prepared for college here at home and was graduated 
 from Williams, receiving the degree of A. B., in 1877, 
 a few months before he attained his majority. Another 
 will speak of him as a student, but the fact that he won 
 the Phi Beta Kappa key is proof of his scholarship. 
 
 He entered the College of Medicine in the Fall 
 after his graduation from Williams and received the 
 degree of M. D. in 1880. My acquaintance with him 
 began in those student days, and I voice the sentiment 
 of all his fellow students when I say that he was con- 
 ceded by all to be a student of unusual mental gifts 
 and the most genial of companions. 
 
 He was made Instructor in Anatomy in the Fall 
 of 1880, and was advanced to the full Professorship 
 of Anatomy in 1881. This chair he filled with eminent 
 satisfaction until 1892 when he was transferred to 
 the chair of Physiology, which position he held until 
 his death. 
 
 In June 1881 he married Miss Jessie H. Suydam 
 of Baldwinsville, whose loving care made it easier for 
 him to achieve so much and made it possible to post- 
 pone so long the termination of life in a delicate body, 
 defective in the central organ of circulation. 
 
 During the declining years of the late Dean 
 Didama Dr. Clark was made Acting Dean, and upon 
 Dean Didama 's death in 1906 he was made Dean of 
 the College of Medicine. 
 
 Such is the brief record of events in his life. It 
 gives evidence only of steady and successful progress 
 in his chosen avocation. The practice of medicine 
 was irksome to Dr. Clark and he early found that his 
 
limited strength could not equal the demands of a 
 successful practice. He was possessed of the scholarly 
 instinct and loved with passionate devotion the study 
 of the sciences related to medicine. He was devoted 
 to investigation, and year after year spent his summer 
 vacation in Woods' HoU in scientific investigation in 
 the Marine Biological Laboratory. He was fortunate 
 in not being dependent upon the returns from personal 
 work for a livelihood, and early decided to follow the 
 inclinations of his mind and devote himself to investi- 
 gation and teaching. He was loyal to the College in 
 which he had been educated, and, although it could 
 but inadequately remunerate him for his time and 
 services, he resisted the invitations to teach elsewhere 
 and remained enthusiastically faithful to us to the 
 end, content to accept what the College could afford 
 to offer. 
 
 Mention has been made of his inherited sense of 
 appreciation of the beautiful. He was an ardent lover 
 of nature, in the usual acceptation of that term. He 
 had a gift for sketching which he cultivated to so high 
 a degree that his crayons became masterly interpreta- 
 tions in black and white of scenes that delighted him, 
 and several fellow artists and friends are proud pos- 
 sessors of proofs of his skill with the pencil or the 
 brush. He could have become famous as an artist. 
 
 His use of the camera was so skillful that he 
 composed pictures of scenes in foreign travel where 
 others only secured photographic memoranda. 
 
 I remember a wonderful photograph of a ruined 
 temple in Greece which had greatly impressed me and 
 of which I was unable to secure a satisfactory picture. 
 
I asked him how he got it. I remember his simple 
 account of how he waited day after day to get just ex- 
 actly the light effect necessary for its perfect repro- 
 duction, how he studied it from every view point, 
 and, finally, on one day of mingled cloud and sunshine, 
 after hours of waiting, he caught it just in its most 
 perfect light. This exactly illustrates his method in 
 everything he undertook. He was satisfied with no 
 result not as near perfection as his abilities could 
 attain. The combination of the artistic sense with the 
 scientific mind is most unusual. Dean Clark's ability 
 to sketch and to make a photographic plate reproduce 
 the most favorable impression of an object exposed to 
 the lens was of the greatest help to him in teaching,, 
 and he made liberal use of both in his work. He was 
 a born teacher. He loved knowledge and pursued her. 
 He loved to delve to the bottom of subjects he was 
 investigating. He knew the vastness of the informa- 
 tion possible of attainment in every natural phenom- 
 enon. He knew his own limitations. But he was not 
 so overawed by his inability to grasp every minute 
 detail of a subject that he could not properly interpret 
 the great truths which he had mastered. The success 
 of the most erudite men as teachers is never great 
 unless they can communicate with confidence that 
 which they have attained. When he taught Anatomy 
 he invested the subject with a living interest and was 
 wont to call attention to the analogies between me- 
 chanisms found in the human body and the applica- 
 tion of similar principles in mechanical structures 
 invented by man. I remember especially his com- 
 parison of the two hip bones to the twin screw pro- 
 
peller. Referring to this he said: "Here through all 
 the ages has been a suggestion. It may never have 
 inspired the thought of the inventor, the problem may 
 have been solved in other ways, but from such sug- 
 gestions have flashed thoughts rich in their results." 
 
 As a teacher of Physiology he was particularly 
 successful. He developed a laboratory for the eluci- 
 dation of the problems of physiology that is unexcelled. 
 His ingenuity devised methods of demonstrating the 
 intricate structure of organs and systems whose ele- 
 ments are microscopic in size that made the subject 
 plain and clear and easy of comprehension by every 
 mind. 
 
 He illustrated the action of the valves of the 
 heart by mechanical means that almost perfectly 
 reproduced the conditions existing in the circulation 
 of the living organism. He appealed to the observa- 
 tion of his students of common things and drew from 
 them homely illustrations that illuminated the subject 
 under study. He was quiet in his manner, persistent 
 in his purpose of making understood every problem 
 under investigation, patient with those of slow per- 
 ception, and inspiring to those more highly endowed. 
 All his students felt a fellowship with him and none 
 ever was reluctant to ask him for needed aid. 
 
 He was much sought as a teacher of the subjects 
 in which he was known to be a master by popular 
 bodies. I have heard him in a parlor with his low 
 even voice, in words so simple as to be understood by 
 anyone, accurately interpret the facts of science on 
 various subjects. To illustrate his style, permit me to 
 quote the close of that part of a popular lecture which 
 
discussed the nervous system. "One night I stood in 
 the heart of the city. A rain which froze upon and 
 encrusted each object it touched had been falhng. 
 Illumined with the underglow of the electric lights 
 every wire glistened like a thread of silver against the 
 blackness of the night. It was as if a vast cobweb 
 had been silently spun over the deserted streets. Had 
 one struck and severed a group of those silvered 
 strands the visible effect on the bewildering maze 
 would have been insignificant; but there would have 
 been a result of serious import. Lines of communica- 
 tion would have been cut and messages here and there 
 would have failed or have been prevented. 
 
 "That web as complex and as purposeless as it 
 looked had a purpose in every line, but not more than 
 the multiplied fibres of our own nervous system. 
 Patient investigators with keen knife and magnified 
 vision are separating and tracing these fibres, now 
 breaking them, now stimulating them, noting effects 
 and so untangling the maze, till they can touch the 
 central offices which receive the sensory impressions 
 from the periphery, and those whence issue the im- 
 pulses which thrill the various muscles. And by 
 interpreting the symbols of disordered function, they 
 can locate the lesions that cause them as surely as the 
 electrician can locate a break in any electric wire, be it 
 hundreds of miles distant and under the sea." 
 
 What illustration of a subject so intricate could 
 have been more fitting! That represents the daily 
 style of teaching of this gifted man. All of his old 
 students will feel as if they had heard him speak as 
 these sentences have been read. 
 
Such a life is not the result of fortunate circum- 
 stances. It is due to the intrinsic worth of the man 
 himself. Gifted, he chose deliberately to make the 
 most of his gifts. He spared no effort, and omitted 
 no methods by which those gifts could be cultivated 
 to the highest point of efficiency. Not forced by 
 grinding circumstance to work for his daily bread, he 
 laid down a noble purpose in life and devoted his time 
 and his talents to the study and elucidation of the 
 fundamental sciences of medicine. He was not ambi- 
 tious for the plaudits of the world, but was content 
 with the consciousness of work well done and with the 
 assurance that he had the respect and love of his fellow 
 students in the faculty and on the students' bench. 
 
 His form we shall never see again. His voice can 
 never charm us more, but the inspiration of his life 
 and the influence of his character shall never die. 
 
 "Dust to dust! but the pure spirit shall flow 
 Back to the burning fountain whence it came; 
 A portion of the Eternal, which must glow 
 Through time and change, unconquerably the same." 
 
MArm of Bon, m. €, Driscoll 
 
 Let me thank the Committee in charge of these 
 memorial exercises for the privilege of joining with you 
 on this occasion and paying my humble tribute of 
 esteem and affection for my old friend and classmate, 
 Dr. Gaylord P. Clark. 
 
 I am invited to say a few words on his life and 
 work in College as an undergraduate, and I sadly and 
 respectfully offer my testimonial to his successful 
 career as a student and his high character as a man. 
 
 In the Fall of 1873, thirty-four years ago, the 
 deceased and I met at Williams College as members of 
 the Freshman class. He was from Syracuse; I from 
 the western part of this County. That fact naturally 
 drew us together. Quickly we became acquainted, 
 which acquaintance developed into a warm friendship 
 and continued through all the passing years. He was 
 one of the youngest men in the class, being under 
 twenty-one when he graduated four years later. In 
 personal appearance he was neither very tall nor very 
 short, large nor small, handsome nor homely. While 
 he always dressed well and in most excellent taste, he 
 was neither loud in his style nor extravagant in his 
 apparel. He was then, as always, modest, retiring 
 and unassuming. He did not attempt to push him- 
 self to the front by crowding others back. He was 
 not showy or spectacular. He did nothing for effect. 
 In our several scraps with the abusive and domineer- 
 
ing Sophomores, if he took any part for the honor and 
 dignity of '77, it was as an inconspicuous helper. In 
 short, there was nothing in his manner, deportment, 
 personahty or appearance at that time which would 
 distinguish him from the mass of his classmates. He 
 was willing to wait until his substantial merits were 
 recognized. 
 
 While some of our men took an active interest in 
 baseball, football, rowing, running,, walking and other 
 athletic contests, he consumed but little time or energy 
 in that way. He was raised in this city, and must 
 have attended school quite steadily in order to be 
 prepared for a classical course in college at sixteen. 
 His parents were in comfortable circumstances, and 
 he never did any manual labor to harden his muscles 
 and develop a robust constitution. His four years 
 in college were an important period in his physical 
 development. At that time athletics at Williams 
 were optional; but had he been required to pursue a 
 thorough and systematic course of physical training 
 under the direction of a careful and scientific instruc- 
 tor, it might have made him a more vigorous man and 
 have added years to his life and usefulness. A reason- 
 able amount of physical exercise should be encouraged 
 in college; while training for contests which require 
 unusual strength and endurance, and all the muscle 
 and physical development of which a young man is 
 capable, uses up a certain amount of reserve vitality 
 and should not be permitted. 
 
 As a student Dr. Clark made his mark; not espe- 
 cially during the Freshman year, for I doubt if he were 
 as well prepared in the classics as some of our class- 
 
mates who came from Eastern preparatory schools. 
 I distinctly recollect that the subjunctive mood was 
 our Latin Professor's hobby, about which I had re- 
 ceived no special instruction; and the varieties of 
 translation he could give that form of the verb, and 
 the number of questions he could ask about its con- 
 struction, were to me a revelation and bewilderment. 
 And I think Clark suffered from the same kind of 
 embarrassment. But he quickly mastered that, as he 
 did all his studies, and stood high in Latin, Greek and 
 Mathematics. 
 
 He was an industrious, methodical, painstaking 
 and conscientious student. He never cribbed or rode 
 the "ponies." He worked out every task, and learned 
 every lesson day by day as it came, and steadily grew 
 in self-reliance and mental power. He especially en- 
 joyed the work in physics, chemistry and natural 
 sciences; and when we took up philosophy, metaphys- 
 ics and other intellectual subjects in our senior year, 
 his faculties were so well developed and trained that he 
 had no difficulty in comprehending them. In the 
 second year he did better work and received better 
 marks than in the first, and during our junior and 
 senior years he was practically perfect in every recita- 
 tion and examination. 
 
 He did not do much work outside the College 
 curriculum, and I doubt if he gave much time to 
 general reading. He did not take much interest in 
 debating, writing or speaking, but devoted all his 
 time and energy to the regular college studies. He 
 did not frequently volunteer his own opinions or pre- 
 sume that he knew more than the author, but he 
 
stuck to the text books and lectures and mastered 
 them. He was a favorite with the President and 
 every Professor, for he never gave them any trouble 
 and always had his lesson. 
 
 With his fellow classmates and the student body 
 generally he was very popular — not perhaps in the 
 sense that a masterful athlete, a brilliant writer, 
 speaker or entertainer is popular. Every one liked 
 him, and he had the good will, confidence and respect 
 of all. He was not hilarious, nor a rollicking student, 
 for he was always modest and unostentatious. His 
 heart was warm, his sympathies broad, and his im- 
 pulses always right. He never even thought of in- 
 dulging in those dissipations which destroy many 
 college students. He seemed to have no temptations. 
 His influence on his classmates was marked and dur- 
 able; not because of any aggressive declaration of his 
 principles but on account of his correct, sweet, honor- 
 able and high-minded daily life. 
 
 Our class held a reunion at Commencement last 
 June. He was not there, and every member particu- 
 larly inquired of me about him, and expressed for 
 him their high regard. 
 
 My admiration for my classmates is very high. 
 I have never met in this wide world forty men, old or 
 young, rich or poor, high or low who, in my judgment, 
 averaged up to my classmates in those sterling and 
 rugged virtues which go to make up sound moral 
 character; and of them all Clark was recognized as the 
 foremost. 
 
 Nothing more can be said by me. No higher 
 testimonial can be given of my high appreciation of 
 
him as a student and a man. He was graduated 
 from the Medical College of this University at the head 
 of his class, and since that time has been associated 
 with that institution as instructor, professor and dean. 
 For thirty years he lived and wrought among you. 
 You know of his work and worth, and you will agree 
 with me that in his subsequent career he fulfilled the 
 promise of his college years. 
 
 I was aware that he was not in robust health. 
 But I also knew of his temperate and regular habits, 
 and had no idea that he would not live out the allotted 
 time of man on earth; and the sudden news of his 
 death came to me as a great surprise and shock. 
 
 This is a sad occasion, but we reverently bow to 
 the inevitable. We keenly appreciate his great loss 
 to this institution and to society, and sincerely sym- 
 pathize with his bereaved widow, the partner of his 
 joys and sorrows. 
 
}\mm of Professor CDarles lU. Bargitt 
 
 There are occasions when there is an eloquence of 
 silence more fitting than that of words. Such the 
 present seems as I confront my personal relations to 
 it. I am asked to contribute some estimate of my 
 lamented friend and colleague as a scientist. Though 
 aware of the inadequacy of any words of mine to por- 
 tray his worth as a man of science, still I can but re- 
 gard with gratitude the opportunity to speak some 
 word of personal appreciation of the man and his 
 work. 
 
 My acquaintance with Dean Clark began soon 
 after my appointment to the professorship of Biology 
 in the University in 1891. The acquaintance then 
 acquired early ripened into the intimacy of a personal 
 friendship which has had no change in all the follow- 
 ing years except in the deepening and broadening 
 growth whose strength only became fully realized in 
 the tragic shock which sundered the ties. To have 
 known him as a man, to have had his friendship during 
 these years, to have shared his counsels and confidences 
 as a colleague, to have had the splendid privilege of 
 cordial and continued co-operation with him in a 
 department of educational development which must 
 stand as an enduring monument to his memory, — 
 surely these are grounds for personal felicitation, and 
 to have a modest share in this memorial is a further 
 occasion for gratitude. 
 
But all this grew out of the circumstance that we 
 were fellow craftsmen in the realm of science. I came 
 to know him first and really, not as a Doctor of Medi- 
 cine, not as a professor of ability in a cognate depart- 
 ment, but as a man of science actuated by those bonds 
 of scientific spirit and endeavor which in unconscious 
 gravitation link others of kindred aspirations and 
 motives. 
 
 This is not the time nor the occasion for any 
 critical inquiry into the earlier conditions of educa- 
 tion or environment which might have conduced to 
 give impulse or direction to a scientific career. Suffice 
 it to say that in those years of his academic and pro- 
 fessional training, that decade from '70 to '80, so 
 pregnant with scientific life and intensity, that would 
 have been a dull mind which failed to gather some- 
 thing of its spirit and import. This must have been 
 especially true of the influences at work during his 
 professional education. The epoch-making biological 
 discoveries of Pasteur and their far-reaching relations 
 to medical advance, and the similarly daring pro- 
 nouncement of Lister which gave to the world an 
 antiseptic surgery, were just then revolutionizing 
 medical thought and precept. And hardly had Clark 
 received his diploma when the brilliant Koch added 
 just the touch which brought to birth that youngest 
 of biological sciences, bacteriology. These and 
 others of like character showed in a most brilliant 
 and convincing manner the all importance of science 
 in general, and of biology in particular, to the new 
 pathology, and foreshadowed that new era in which 
 medicine should be less an art and more a science. 
 
Such was the time, such the spirit activating the 
 very air which he breathed, and which vivified his 
 thought. Have we not here some suggestion of the 
 probable vision which, though yet dim and uncertain, 
 was yet dawning upon his alert and perceptive mind, 
 but which finally came to its full effulgence after he 
 entered upon his work as teacher and professor? I 
 believe the whole subsequent tenor of his life bears 
 out this suggestion, and gives us the clue to much 
 which would otherwise be obscure. 
 
 It was at this point that the current of our lives 
 became confluent. In early conference with himself 
 and his colleagues concerning new courses in bacteri- 
 ology and embryology, and later as active colleague 
 in his college faculty, came the opportunity for per- 
 ceiving the many sided aspects of his life, but chiefly 
 his insight and appreciation concerning science and 
 its indispensable importance in medical education. In 
 large measure Professor Clark anticipated what has 
 since become a well recognized principle in every 
 reputable medical college in the country at large. 
 And it is to the credit of his faculty colleagues that 
 this departure was so eagerly accepted, and has grown 
 to this day. He had early perceived what has since 
 been formally enunciated, that efficient scientific knowl- 
 edge is available only through the vitalizing method 
 of the laboratory, and that only from this modem 
 factor of education may be had that training which 
 fits for both the discovery of truth and its practical 
 application in every department of scholarly endeavor. 
 
 This Clark emphasized, both in precept and 
 practice. The latter he exemplified in the labor and 
 
care devoted to the organization of one of the first 
 distinctively laboratory courses of the college, and if 
 I am not mistaken his was one of the very first in this 
 country to provide adequate facilities for practical 
 work on the part of every student, the details and 
 designs of which were largely worked out by Professor 
 Clark himself. 
 
 But of these phases of his life I may not further 
 speak, lest I usurp another's privilege. Yet it were 
 hardly possible to say less of this very important 
 feature of his work as a scientific man. It is just here 
 that some of the best characteristics of the man of 
 science find expression. But they are not the only 
 illustrations of Clark's application of scientific precept 
 and example. To thoroughly perceive and apply a 
 principle one must solve some problem in which it is 
 involved. This our friend proceeded to do. At an 
 early day he found his way to the Marine Biological 
 Laboratory. Here, 1896, he carried on his first tech- 
 nical research, concerned with one of the sensory 
 functions of the animal body. The results of this 
 investigation were published in a paper which ap- 
 peared in the same year and has received favorable 
 mention from subsequent investigators. His work 
 was continued in following years, and he was for some 
 time a member of the teaching staff of the laboratory. 
 
 Later in Europe he continued his investigations, 
 working with the distinguished Professors von Frey 
 and Verwom at the physiological laboratories of 
 Leipzig and Jena. Here as before meritorious results 
 were obtained and were published in a noteworthy 
 contribution to the American Journal of Physiology. 
 
In these contributions may be found clear evi- 
 dence of those elements which characterize the acute 
 scientific mind, namely, close observation, careful 
 comparison, strict adherence to facts and critical 
 analysis and deduction. They reveal also the abso- 
 lute intellectual honesty and steady purpose of the 
 scientific man. 
 
 But these contributions, and the application 
 devoted to their accomplishment, which were not in- 
 significant, do not by any means constitute a measure 
 of his scientific stature or strength. They do, however, 
 afford an insight into the spirit and purpose of the 
 man. But here, as in so many other walks of life, the 
 man is immeasurably greater than his work. With 
 some science would seem to be an end in itself. They 
 study, investigate, laboring with commendable indus- 
 try for the sole pleasure of the knowledge, — science 
 for science's sake, an end far from pitiable or censur- 
 able. Others, again, find in science a ready road to 
 distinction. Actuated by that ambition which aspires 
 to fame, they investigate and publish simply for the 
 sake of achieving a measure of recognition from their 
 fellows. Thus is it even in matters of graver moment. 
 Some among us espouse religion as an end in itself, — 
 the personal satisfaction or emotional pleasure realized 
 in certain ceremonials or observances. Others again, 
 while not oblivious to religious joy, are rather con- 
 cerned in religion as an inspiration for service on be- 
 half of others, — a means of uplifting and ennobling 
 human life, and promoting larger and better concep- 
 tions of human endeavor. Now none of these mo- 
 tives is wholly discreditable or unworthy. Yet few 
 
would hesitate as to a verdict of the better view, 
 whether it be in rehgion or science. And thus I be- 
 Heve it was with our friend in his attitude toward 
 science. Estimated by his actual contributions to 
 scientific knowledge he would not be considered great. 
 But when we estimate his scientific worth in terms of 
 its relations to the larger problems of human life and 
 weal, and hence to the progress of medical methods 
 and standards and education, then few of his genera- 
 tion have wrought more intelligently or enduringly 
 than he. 
 
 One further phase of his scientific life calls for 
 notice, namely, his relations to his collaborators, both 
 personally and in the organized institutions for the 
 promotion of science. He was an active member of 
 several well known associations, among them the 
 American Association for the Advancement of Science, 
 the American Society of Naturalists, and the Ameri- 
 can Physiological Society. He was a constant at- 
 tendant of the sessions of these bodies and took an 
 active interest in their work. His late trip to Europe 
 was prompted largely by his desire to be present at 
 the International Physiological Congress in Heidel- 
 berg, a desire sadly cut short by subsequent events. 
 He was a member and vice-president of the local 
 Academy, and only the pressure of professional duties 
 deterred him from accepting its presidency, which was 
 urged upon him. 
 
 His personal relations to his collaborators were of 
 the most cordial and delightful character. Every- 
 where his magnetic personal qualities won him ardent 
 friends. I cannot forbear giving in this connection 
 
extracts from a few of many letters of appreciation 
 which have come to my hands since his death. 
 
 Professor Erlanger, of the University of Wisconsin 
 writes: "It is certainly to be regretted that the world 
 in general and physiology in particular has had to 
 suffer this untimely loss of Dr. Clark's earnest services." 
 
 From the University of Michigan Professor Lom- 
 bard writes: "It was with a deep sense of loss that 
 the friends and colleagues of Professor Clark heard of 
 his sudden death. With feelings of personal bereave- 
 ment was mingled the recognition that scientific medi- 
 cine had lost one of its most earnest workers. Learned 
 in the department of medicine which was his specialty, 
 he was above all a profound student of the problems 
 of medical education, and devoted his best energies to 
 the development of the school of which he was the 
 head." 
 
 From Columbia University Professor lyce writes: 
 "I need hardly express to you the sorrow which I felt 
 on hearing of Dr. Clark's death. He was one of the 
 men whom physiology, medicine, and science in rela- 
 tion to medicine, can ill afford to lose. His concep- 
 tion of those subjects was eminently broad and deep. 
 His longing for the best in them was shown early in 
 his career when he sought first, the laboratories of the 
 leading universities of this country; then the Marine 
 Biological Laboratory at Woods HoU; and lastly the 
 Physiological Institutes of Leipzig and Jena. . . . 
 His conception of physiological problems was broad, 
 and his contributions to physiology were meritorious 
 and of permanent value. Always interested in the 
 problems of medical education, he had in late years 
 
turned his attention more particularly to them. Here 
 again, as in his physiology, he set before himself and 
 his college high ideals. He recognized the value to 
 the future physician of a thorough scientific training, 
 and largely to make such training possible he was 
 early instrumental in lengthening the course of the 
 medical student to four years. Always upright, gen- 
 uine, honest, generous and broad, as Clark was, physi- 
 ology and medicine suffer a distinct loss in his death." 
 
 What these have written, hundreds near and far, 
 at home and abroad, have thought or spoken. 
 
 One further mention must conclude this tribute. 
 We hear it said, though with less emphasis or fre- 
 quency than formerly, that science tends to blunt the 
 finer sensibilities, or atrophy the esthetic sentiments 
 of one's nature. And with more plausibility it is a 
 common assumption that the scientific specialist is 
 deplorably narrow, correspondingly conceited, and in- 
 tolerably intolerant. Again, there is heard now and 
 then the decadent and vanishing echo of that imag- 
 inary conflict of science and religion, which so harassed 
 the thought a generation ago; and one is admonished 
 not always in whispers, of the glaring philistinism of 
 the average scientific specialist. 
 
 But the answer to all this is the scientist's appeal 
 to fact, — an answer rather more pertinent and con- 
 vincing than endless torrents of invective or declama- 
 tion. Not to dwell upon the well-known cases of 
 Agassiz, Gray, LeConte, and numerous others of their 
 like, it will suffice to attest the subject of this memorial. 
 Here was a scientist, aye, a specialist in science, in 
 whose open and transparent life will be recognized 
 
amplest refutation of all such baseless calumnies. In 
 this life, farthest from pretense or display, were con- 
 spicuously blended those keen and critical instincts 
 and methods of the scientist and that esthetic sense 
 which revels in quiet rapture in the presence of art or 
 music or poetry, and whose artistic tastes found ex- 
 pression in the work of his own brush. 
 
 Here too, with no ripple of discord or confusion, 
 those painstaking qualities of research, — rigid adher- 
 ence to the principles of the scientific method, and a 
 faith at once simple, devout, broad and sublime, were 
 intimately correlated. His religion suffered no eclipse 
 in the presence of his science; his science was not em- 
 barrassed in the presence of his religion. Does this 
 seem strange or paradoxical? Pity for him who thus 
 construes it! There is nothing of either. It is rather 
 and simply the essential and imperative harmony of 
 all truth in a soul large enough for their comprehension 
 and appreciation. 
 
 Here then culminates, in my thought, the finest 
 exemplification and measure of the man. Strength 
 and courage blended with gentleness and generosity; 
 critical and discriminating skill and methods, tempered 
 by breadth and tolerance; self-reliant and independent 
 in thought and action, yet trustfully and reverently 
 devout. 
 
JTddress of ebancellor 3m^$ R. Day 
 
 I have been requested to say a few words con- 
 cerning the Dean's relation to the University; words 
 that scarcely need be said, so visibly has he imprinted 
 himself upon our work, and so plainly has he written 
 his character and ability upon the college of which 
 he was first a student, and then a Professor, and fin- 
 ally a Dean. 
 
 I ask myself, what is there that I can say that he 
 did not say himself? There are men who need to be 
 spoken for after they are gone because of some ob- 
 scurity, it may be, in essential and meritorious work, 
 or because generosity and kindness would supplement 
 the eulogy of a work that had not completeness and 
 symmetry. But to my thinking Dean Clark, modest as 
 he was, and unpretentious, wrote his work in the 
 University upon every day and week and month, and 
 now that he has gone it seems to stand out before us 
 all in italics, and everything that he was, and every- 
 thing that he did, is emphasized. I do not care to 
 analyze him. I could not analyze a flower that 
 delighted me. I could rejoice in its beauty and inhale 
 its fragrance. I could not analyze a friendship very 
 well, I could just simply feel its power and know its 
 loss, and so to-day I can scarcely tell you what I think 
 of Dean Clark as a Dean. It would be far more diffi- 
 cult to do than the task of these my friends, who have 
 spoken of him in the relation of student and scientist. 
 
It perhaps would not be possible for me to make 
 you know what a Dean is to a man occupying the posi- 
 tion which I attempt to occupy. That he is something 
 more than simply an executive officer, that he some- 
 how is yourself in your own work, however independent 
 he may be in his own work; and how wonderfully the 
 efficient man, and the loyal man, and the devoted man 
 lifts all your burdens in his particular responsibility 
 and sphere, and how you come to know that by never 
 feeling the burden of his college, or needing to ask any 
 solicitous questions as to what may be doing there. 
 So great are my blessings in these respective colleges 
 that I could scarcely give you a just estimate of them, 
 but in none of them more fully and perfectly were those 
 things realized than at the Medical College. The 
 man was educated there, he taught there, he invented 
 and discovered there, he created his laboratory there, 
 and furnished many a helpful hint with regard to 
 other laboratories. He studied in connection with 
 his fellow teachers and his associates all of the phases 
 of the Medical College work, turning aside from a 
 profession in which he would have been eminently 
 skiUful — with his traits of character and his wonder- 
 ful social gifts and adaptations. He turned aside 
 from this profession to help found on new bases, and 
 rear in new proportions, medical learning in this 
 country, and his work in our Medical College became 
 the pride of the Medical College as his fame extended, 
 and with it the fame of the college throughout the land. 
 
 He fell into this executive work naturally. He 
 was the only man the united Faculty could think 
 logically of to succeed the great man who had so long 
 
stood at the head of that college. He took up tliat 
 work without pretension, without demonstration, and 
 yet so naturally, and so easily carried it on, with so 
 little friction, that one looking upon him and upon the 
 work of the college under him would almost question 
 why it were necessary to have a Dean at all. 
 
 To my thinking he had the elements of a great 
 man. I know we are apt to say that, when men whom 
 we love depart from us, but we dare to say such things 
 of this man we have known. These gentlemen have 
 not been describing a man of scientific fame in some 
 distant time or far separated place, they have been 
 talking to you about your neighbor, about a man who 
 came and went in your streets, and whom you met 
 day by day, and they say, and I emphasize the remark, 
 that he had elements of greatness. He associated with 
 men of great ability in the Faculty to which he be- 
 longed ; but they all recognized his power. All of them 
 looked to him in the great work to which he had given 
 his life, and gave him their confidence and esteem. 
 
 There are various ways that greatness displays it- 
 self; intensity does not always make the largest visible 
 display. You would have said, here is quietness, here 
 is an easy adaptation to circumstances, here is a nature 
 that would hardly contest disputatiously, here is a 
 man whom you may venture to take under the control 
 of your own superior will, and in all of them you would 
 be greatly mistaken, and much embarrassed, for here 
 was a man as modest as modesty and yet a man of 
 great force of character, great firmness of will, great 
 persistency in reaching his objective, a man of strength, 
 and you felt that strength. 
 
The electric current tears through the clouds and 
 the separated atmosphere returning crashes together 
 with a loud demonstration of the force that has passed 
 by, and you cringe and shudder. It is nothing how- 
 ever compared with those pencils of light that came 
 up over the mountain peaks in which I have rejoiced 
 the past summer, and even an army's signal gun seems 
 to be out of place and out of harmony with the rising 
 sun and its silence tells no adequate story of its power 
 but you perceive it a little after in blooming flowers, 
 in awakening bird notes, in the stirring industries of 
 men, in the mighty movements of those gigantic forces 
 that make the seasons of the earth. 
 
 There are men who move in this world and with 
 their activities make large demonstrations, peculiar 
 natures, peculiar circumstances, peculiar relations to 
 things, and by these you measure them and think they 
 are great. There are other men who move out into 
 the world silently, almost voicelessly, the things they 
 do seem so easy and natural, and are done so quietly 
 that any one could do them, but after a little you look 
 into the sum of it all, and the sum of it takes the magni- 
 tude and shapes it into grandeur and you get the 
 measure of the man in the mighty things that will re- 
 main and bless the world long after he has gone, and 
 such things are the measure of our good Dean. Other 
 men were heard further, other men were seen farther, 
 but such men will not live longer, and such men will 
 not live in greater things. Other men whose names 
 perhaps are known around the circuit of the globe are 
 rendering their tribute to him as a worthy associate, 
 as a man whose death is to be profoundly lamented, 
 
and I measure him that way, and I say to you that his 
 relation to the University in his character, in his 
 scholarship, in his executive ability, in his loyalty, in 
 his devotion to his work, in his diplomatic gifts, in 
 handling the Faculty and students, — in his social life, 
 in all these things his relation to the University was 
 one of immense value, and the prize thereof will re- 
 main for generations to come as a legacy. That is 
 what helps me this afternoon. 
 
 When I am able to look into the face of death 
 across the campus over yonder where the dust is at 
 rest I am able to look into it all and say you did some 
 things to us that we terribly lament, and over which 
 we weep; you did take away from us that which we 
 value beyond price, and you have wounded us deeply, 
 and our loss cannot be estimated; but there are some 
 things that you cannot do, and you did not do, and 
 you never can do while the generation shall pass. He 
 lives with us, he abides with us, his form went out 
 from us, his voice you hushed. The fire of his eye 
 failed, we do not see him any more in the person in 
 which he lived, but he abides with us, his essential 
 self, and will abide with us forever. There is more of 
 our Dean with us than there is in the grave, and the 
 cause of medical learning will be greater because he 
 lived. The Medical College of the University will be 
 greater for the generations to come because he lived. 
 Death could not take that away, and it never can be 
 taken away. Because of him we came earlier to what 
 we are. We came to what we are in greater propor- 
 tions, we are what we are in a better sense than we 
 would have been without this man. 
 
Men of the faculty who labored with him, and 
 still other men are in our thoughts who were with him, 
 and these men would unite in testimony with us that 
 death could not take from us that which was the 
 greatest, and the most treasured, and the most honor- 
 able of our great Dean, — the personality that lives. 
 That is immortal. 
 
 I have been profoundly interested in these papers 
 which have been read, and I said to myself when the 
 last paper finished, was he all of that? I should like 
 to be all of that. Was my friend and your friend all 
 of that? I said, yea verily he was all of that, and he 
 was immeasurably more than all of that, for he was 
 that which human voice cannot express, which cannot 
 be portrayed to you, which cannot be made visible to 
 you. There were the very elements of character, there 
 were the very proportions, but more than all that, 
 there was the mightiest personality, there was the 
 flower and its fullest force, beauty and fragrance, 
 which was the vital bloom of these things which have 
 been so admirably set forth; and so in my thought, 
 there was a man who was all that has been described, 
 yet a man who was infinitely more, one that I wish I 
 were able to portray and describe to you, whom I 
 knew and felt, whose life is now a presence with me, 
 that never can be described, that never can be known 
 imtil we know as we are known, and see as we are 
 seen, and behold him in his spirit personality out of 
 our spirit eyes and with our spirit minds. 
 
 I think of him often. I look for him. I have 
 instinctively reached out for the instrument upon my 
 desk to hear him more than once. Alone I have looked 
 
through the mist of tears and I have wondered, I 
 asked the question, Oh, God, why didst Thou do this 
 when there were so many in the world worthless? 
 But the answer is, what! Thou knowest not now, 
 thou shalt know. God's plans are immeasurable. 
 He is greater than man, and above human affairs, we 
 put our trust in Him and we must look forward and 
 trust Him. 
 
 The University has met with a great loss. I will 
 not attempt to measure it. A man so wonderfully 
 adapted to this work, a man whose very home was in 
 his work and was our home for his work, for no two 
 lives ever dwelt in sweeter harmony, and in more one- 
 ness than these two lives. No man had greater pride 
 in wife, no man had any more loyal companion in his 
 scientific work and research, following him to the 
 laboratory, helping him as best she could in the medical 
 Deanship, sympathizing with him in every aspiration, 
 and rewarded always with the delightful confidence of 
 love. Things too sacred for me who knew much of 
 this inside life to voice here upon this occasion. Oh, 
 it does seem so strange, and here is where the test of 
 our faith comes in. What he was for us, we will try 
 to be, and what he left for us, we will try to do; and 
 the ideals which he wrought out, — and the ideals which 
 he told some of us that have not yet been realized we 
 will try to realize. 
 
 We will appreciate that for which he stood which 
 was one of the greatest of all possible interests that 
 could be committed to the minds and hands of men, 
 the care and development, the mending and the 
 strengthening and the perpetuating of this physical 
 
structure for the work of this mind and soul with 
 which the Almighty has endowed us. He will not be 
 forgotten. The unselfish man is not to be forgotten, 
 and in some future time when great names are written 
 into the College of Medicine of the Syracuse University, 
 great founders' names, great Professors' names, great 
 Deans' names, there will be written high above them 
 and chiselled deep for the ages to come, the name of 
 Gaylord Parsons Clark. 
 
 I will not attempt to say more, possibly having 
 spoken longer than I ought to have spoken, but not 
 longer, or of things more than ought to be uttered of 
 such a life and such a work. 
 
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