The inauguration of President Wilson was a distinguished success. The ceremonies had true dignity, the addresses were classic, the assemblage was notable, the arrangements were of machine-like nicety, and the weather was perfect, from a morning so balmy that even the venerable representative of ’32 found it comfortable to wait in line out of doors, to the brilliant sunset which cast a remarkable orange glow over the victorious football field.
The university banners, white field with the coat of arms in the college colors, were floating from the turrets and towers of Princeton above the gorgeous autumn tree-tops, as the academic procession filed slowly through the noble arches of the library. And it was a most resplendent procession the people lined up on either side gazed upon. We thought we were doing pretty well in the way of academic millinery at the time of the sesquicentennial celebration, but these seven divisions, each under a separate marshal, were quite as notable in colors, and certainly more so in numbers. There were more caps and gowns in this procession than in the bicentennial parade at New Haven; in fact, more than in any former academic procession in America, we believe, except at Columbia last year. In the seventh section three-quarters of a century was represented – from Dr. James Curtis Hepburn ’32 to Louis James ’06.
In the earlier divisions, beside representatives of the army, the government, the state, the church and finance, it was a novelty – at Princeton – to see marching along with the other academic dignitaries, a number of ladies, - President Mary E. Wooley of Mount Holyoke, Professor Alice V. Brown of Wellesley, Dean Agnes Irwin of Radcliff, and others. But the most brilliant costumes were not, as at most public assemblages, worn by the women; the Oxford gown with its scarlet was perhaps the most radiant of all.
The Hon. Franklin Murphy, Governor of New Jersey, ex-officio President of the board of trustees, presided over the Inauguration, and the Hon. W. J. Magie ’52, Chancellor of the state, administered the three oaths of office and presented the charter to the President for signing. The Rev. Dr. Henry van Dyke ±73 made the opening prayer, and the Right Rev. Dr. Henry Yates Satterlee, Bishop of Washington, pronounced the benediction.
The governor occupied the baldachino. On his right was Mr. Cleveland, on his left President Wilson. Farther along, next to Dr. van Dyke and Bishop Satterlee, sat the Right Rev. Dr. John Scarborough, Bishop of New Jersey. Dr. Patton sat in the front row on the opposite side of the platform to Dr. van Dyke. The rest of the high seats were occupied by the “delegates of universities, colleges, and learned societies in the order of seniority of charters under which degrees may be conferred” – as many of them as could get on the platform, that is; the rest were in the first orchestra seats.
Mr. Booker T. Washington was among these. Behind them came the invited guests who were not formal representatives of universities, including such men as the Hon. Thomas B. Reed, Gen. John M. Wilson, the Hon. Robert T. Lincoln, Dr. C. A. Briggs, Dr. H. C. Minton, Edmund Clarence Stedman, William Dean Howells, and other men distinguished in other than academic ways. One of the most interesting if not the most interested of the spectators was Mr. J. P. Morgan. Though a graduate of one of the German universities, he did not wear academic regalia or march with the procession. He sat with relatives in the horseshoe. Mark Twain’s snowy mane was conspicuous, especially when he nodded, as he sometimes did during Dr. Patton’s address. He once told a friend that he considered Dr. Patton the best after-dinner speaker he ever heard. Venerable Parke Godwin ’34, one of our most illustrious graduates, was also distinguished among the distinguished guests.
The administering of the oaths was an impressive ceremony. We print below the full text of the new President’s vows. He made his responses as if he meant them to serve for more than a quaint bit of symbolism. He then signed the charter, with all of us for witnesses, and the Chancellor handed over to him the keys of the university – at least on key, Witherspoon Hall’s because it is such a fine big one. Then began the addresses. We print them elsewhere. That is the reason we can print very little else in this number. We wish every son of Princeton could have been there to hear these memorable speeches. A reading will show how significant they are, how basically significant, and how especially pertinent they are to the educational questions of this day and hour. President Wilson’s inaugural will stand as an academic profession of faith. But only those who were present can realize the deep impression they made on the distinguished audience gathered there to hear these distinguished speakers, each of whom was at his very best that morning, and of whom Princeton is now more than ever proud.
Chancellor Magie ’52 propounded the questions for the new President’s vows, of which the following is a copy, taken from the Book of Charters, which Dr. Wilson and the Chancellor signed in the presence of the audience: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the Constitution of the United States. I do sincerely profess and swear that I do and will bear true faith and allegiance to the Government established in this State under the authority of the people. I do solemnly promise and swear that I will faithfully, impartially and justly perform all the duties of the office of President of Princeton University according to the best of my abilities and understanding” - Woodrow Wilson. “Sworn and subscribed at Princeton, New Jersey, this twenty-fifth day of October, A. D., 1902, before me, W. J. Magie, Chancellor of New Jersey.” – W. J. Magie.
The crowd, of course, was nothing like the crowd at the sesquicentennial celebration, but that was a three-days continuous performance containing many features calculated to bring greater crowds. But a goodly number flocked in on the special trains from New York and Philadelphia, notwithstanding the absence of President Roosevelt. It was deeply regretted that Princeton could not be honoured by his presence on this occasion, especially as he is a professed admirer of our new President, thereby resembling most of his countrymen, it seems.
Whether or not many of the alumni stayed away on account of the limited seating capacity of Alexander Hall, certainly every one who came gained admittance if he sought it. Though we took pains to make a number of inquiries, we have yet to hear of anyone’s failing to get in. The actual seating capacity may be limited, but the standing room does not seem to be. And the more people there are in the galleries and aisles, the more striking this impressive auditorium appears to our visitors.
The steps address, delivered by the President from Old North to a large crowd immediately after the formal ceremonies, was quite informal, a sort of heart-to-heart talk from one Princeton man to others. Here is part of it. The opening sentence, by the way, carries the peculiar atmosphere of much of his style; the flavor (or flavour) of an earlier century is in it. The last sentence shows the ideal of his attitude toward the rest of us Princeton men: “I have come from a place where I have been telling them what the ideals of Princeton are. The ideals of Princeton are contained in the men whom Princeton sends out, and I take it that then men who have been associated in the class comradeships in this place know the plan for this place. We are not afraid when we make plans, for we are making plans for men of affairs. And we know that the knowledge that goes into Princeton comradeships will be a knowledge that translates itself into power, because it is only by the conduct of men that learning propagates itself. It is only when men know how to be brothers to one another that comradeship gets its best expression. I believe the comradeship that shows itself in the field will show itself also in letters. I ask that you will look upon me not as a man to do something apart, but as a man who asks the privilege of leading you and being believed in by you while he tries to do the things in which he knows you believe.”
The sod ceremony – to use a current colloquialism – then took place on the east lawn of Prospect, on the site selected for the new dormitory to be given by ’79. Dr. A. W. Halsey, President of the class, made a speech on behalf of ’79, and President Wilson made his third speech of that day, speaking on behalf of the university. The spade with which he performed his first official act is an interesting implement. The haft of the handle is in the form of a recumbent tiger, containing exactly seventy-nine ounces of silver, the sides of the handle showing intertwined ivy leaves made also of silver. The silver is from the mines of a ’79 man. The blade is made out of copper from the mines of another ’79 man.
The ’79 dinner, in honour of their classmate, was held that evening at the Inn, and the President made his fourth and, ’79 men maintain, his best speech of the day – though it was past midnight when he arose to respond to the various pleasant and enheartening things that they had spent the evening saying to him. Incidentally this speaks well for the endurance of our new executive head. There were about seventy-eight – some claim seventy-nine ’79 men here during the day. The Rev. Dr. Halsey, the class president, acted as toastmaster. Cyrus McCormick responded to Princeton University; W. B. Lee to Wilson, the President; the Hon. Charles A. Talcott to the Class of Seventy-nine; Dr. Samuel Alexander to the College of New Jersey, and after the reading of letters and telegrams, by William R. Wilder, the secretary, Robert Bridges spoke of Wilson, the Classmate.
They looked as though they were having a very good time, these ’79 men. They had a gayly decorated headquarters, opposite the Inn, just as if it were a Commencement reunion. Friday afternoon they held a class golf tournament for cups presented by Adrian Riker ’79 and P. A. V. Van Doren ’79, which were won respectively by J. B. Waller ’79 of Chicago, and John S. Baird ’79 of New York. All of them marched impressively in the academic parade as a division by themselves, taking precedence over all the other alumni. They filled the back row of the horseshoe in Alexander Hall, and they grinned all day long with pardonable complacence.
The favourable comment, in exchanges still coming in from all over the country, upon President Wilson’s inaugural address, is none the less gratifying because expected. The Philadelphia Press, in a long editorial, warmly endorse Princeton’s position as voiced in no uncertain tone by the new President. Even the New York Evening Post refers to the address as “distinguished both for breadth of philosophic vision and for grace of literary form,” in an editorial entitles The New Humanities, which begins by quoting the President’s dictum “We must deal in college with the spirits of men, not with their fortunes.” To be sure, the editorial, though beginning quite cheerily, peters out peevishly toward the end, because it is an Evening Post editorial; but it may be taken as a hopeful sign for the Post and its previously peculiar attitude toward Princeton.
And here is endorsement from an odd, unexpected quarter. This is clipped from a recent daily: “Rev. Dr. Parkhurst, in his sermon today, warmly praised the inaugural address of President Wilson, of Princeton University. Dr. Parkhurst deprecated lack of reference in the multitudinous discussion in recent years regarding the proper curricula for colleges and universities, to the idea that education was to be for anything more than the years of present life, and said the subject had perhaps never been more magnificently treated than in President Wilson’s address. Dr. Parkhurst is opposed to the attempts to whittle down the college curriculum from four years.”
If there were space it would be a pleasure to print all of the very quotable things that have been said also about Mr. Cleveland’s as well as Dr. Patton’s address. Mr. Cleveland’s was a surprise. One had not thought of him as the expert he showed himself to be in the theories, abstruse and otherwise, of education. But he has evidently taken the trust of trusteeship with the seriousness he recommends in his address, and he has mastered the subject of which he treated, since he came to Princeton, in very much the same thorough, masterful way he studied up the tariff, a subject of which he knew very little when he went to Washington.
Dr. Patton did not surprise us. We knew he would do it. No one else could have done it so well, but he did not surpass himself. Because no one could. No man alive today who handles delicacies of thought through the subtle medium of speech could have performed the ex-President’s task so well. From the warm fraternal note of the congratulatory beginning to the generous paternal benediction at the impressive conclusion, it was consummate.
The new president was sized up by The Daily Princetonian in its editorial for the 25th, in the following words: “Egregiously suited for his executive duties, eminently fitted for his exalted position, he enters this new field of labor supported by the confidence and trust, the respect and admiration of all who bear the title of Princeton men. Not only have his exceptional abilities received this recognition from his associates in the academic world, but his eminence as author, as student, as scholar, has brought him everywhere merited and unstinted praise from the most discerning minds. In entrusting, to a great extent, the future of our University to his diligence and care, we cannot do better than review these things.” And The Tiger, it is said, issued in honour of the occasion a “Special Coronation” number with occasional jokes.
Lest any may think, especially those who say President Butler fanning himself, that Mr. Cleveland’s speech was written with special reference to the former’s recent utterances anent the two years A.B. course, to which there ware so many references these days, we happen to know that Mr. Cleveland wrote his address long before President Butler made his proposal. We also happen to know that President Butler is aware of this fact, and that the address was nothing more – or less – than a masterly presentation of Princeton’s position on behalf of the board of trustees.
President Wilson was a guest at a dinner in honor of the Crown Prince of Siam in New York the other night. Being called on unexpectedly for a speech, he made a hit by quoting the fellow rhyme, which is by a well known and versatile member of the Princeton faculty who is given to making versus at odd moments – when he isn’t writing text books, planning new buildings, or developing new departments:
“There was a young man of Siam,
Spent his time reading Omar Khayyam.
Said he, Old Omar,
You are my Homer;
Said Omar Khayyam I am.”
This was published in the November 1, 1902 issue.