SPIRITUAL INFLUENCES
Cadets love to lay aside the restrictions of their everyday routine
life, put on their athletic uniforms and most care-free manners, and
wander among the beautiful hills that are all around West Point. They
like to enjoy the emotions that spring from a close communion with
Nature, both in the winter, when the afternoons are short and the
valleys quickly fill up with purple lights, and in the summer, when the
country is extravagantly clothed in luxuriant foliage. If the day of
the cadet has been warped by all sorts of petty annoyances, all that
he has to do is to climb to Redoubt No. 4 or go to Fort Putnam, and
feast his eyes upon a scene of unsurpassing beauty in order to have
his cramped soul straightened out and to be lifted above his material
surroundings. What greater pleasure does his life afford than to lie
in the warm spring sunshine of Fort Putnam and drink in the panorama
below? All of the cares of his daily existence drop away under the
spell of a mysterious kind of an influence that fills his being and
stirs his innate nobility. He is thankful that he is privileged to
live in such a wonderful and beautiful place. Its effect is like that
of some drug that soothes and calms, that gives him a kindly feeling
toward humanity, and that makes him glad to be alive. On all sides
he is affected by Nature who has done her best to develop all of
his spirituality and to awaken his finer sensibilities. Wherever he
wanders or wherever the eye roves, there is a scene to admire, almost
reverentially. No less appealing than the hills is the river with its
many moods.
And there are the buildings whose beauty likewise exerts a subtle
spiritual influence and acts as a stimulant to the development of the
cadet’s æsthetic tastes. His Barracks, his Recitation Halls, his Riding
Academy, his Gymnasium, his Mess Hall, and especially his Chapel, built
as they all are from the natural rock of West Point’s hills, seem to
grow right out of their surroundings as if God planted them there as
a part of His natural design. Their presence is ever a reminder to
the cadet that he has consecrated his life to an ideal, for on their
exteriors are carved in conspicuous places the shields of his Alma
Mater and of his country, bearing their motto of duty and honor. The
walls of the interiors are hung with the portraits of famous sons of
the Academy, whose devotion to their country and to an ideal serves
as an inspiration to the cadet and makes him sensible to the value of
moral qualities.
Hovering over both the grounds and the buildings is the influence
of the flag. As a cadet sees it floating from its tall white staff,
somehow it has come to have a different meaning from the days when he
was a care-free civilian. It seems to him to possess a personality of
which he never before was aware. He feels for it a real reverence,
because he is conscious of being in the presence of something big, as
if beholding the whole power of a nation. He sees in it the emblem of
the country’s sovereignty and the symbol to which he has pledged his
life’s service. Mingled with his feeling of reverence is his personal
affection. Day after day he has watched it silhouetted against the sky
and has felt the thrill of patriotism, when it was being lowered at
retreat to the accompaniment of _The Star Spangled Banner_.
It is not to the beauty of Nature and to the flag alone that the cadet
must turn for his spiritual refreshment. The Chaplain, a man with a
fine grip upon the Corps, gathers together in classes those cadets
who desire to come, and explains to them the word of God. His Bible
classes today are a continuation of the famous classes that were held
at West Point for so many years by Miss Anna Warner. During the summer
encampment, she taught her boys in the old chapel after the morning
services, where for one hour the cadets received from her sainted lips
an interpretation of the Scriptures, and were elevated by contact
with her noble character. I can see her before me now, her quaint
silk dress, her small delicate body, her ethereal face framed in the
neatest and whitest of curls that peeped from out of her charming poke
bonnet. Her whole presence radiated goodness and spirituality. Prior to
the dismissal of the class she would regularly present to each cadet a
fragrant little bouquet of flowers that she had that morning gathered
from her modest garden, and arranged into the daintiest of nosegays.
These few flowers were simple, like the donor, but they brought into
the life of the recipient a spiritual perfume that awakened his
memories and took him back home to rose-scented gardens and neat
graveled paths where another sainted woman was praying for the welfare
of his soul. So he took the little nosegay back to camp with him and
put it carefully in his tumblerful of water alongside of his tent, as
a reminder of what he should be, and as a check on ignoble impulses.
Here and there in his own company streets, he would see his comrades’
bouquets, little dashes of color, the red of the petunia, the blue of
the cornflower, the yellow of the marigold, and as they caught his eye
they seemed to be a part of Miss Warner still exerting her inspiring
influence.
It is regrettable that the cadets of the future will never have the
good fortune to know her, for last year (1916) she passed to her reward
after ninety years in the service of God. Although it is rare that
anyone outside the Academy is buried in the cemetery at West Point, her
body was laid to rest there, near the bluff that overlooks the Hudson
and in sight of her home on Constitution Island across the river, that
a short time before her death she generously gave to the Government. To
the Corps of Cadets that she loved, she willed a magnificent original
portrait of Washington by Gilbert Stuart, that now hangs in the library.
Her Bible class still goes on. Every Sunday when the weather is fair
the Chaplain takes the cadets over to Constitution Island, where, under
the trees that Miss Warner loved so well, he continues her work. If
Miss Warner sees her “boys” studying the word of God in the shadow of
the old Revolutionary House, hallowed by her presence, what pleasure
she must feel!
If, however, neither the beauties of Nature nor the interest of the
Bible class appeal to the cadet, he cannot help having his spiritual
self stirred by the impressive service at the Cadet Chapel. All cadets
are required to attend divine service. The large majority go to the
Cadet Chapel because it is for all denominations, the building never
having been consecrated to any particular faith, but about ten per
cent. of the cadets attend service at the Catholic Chapel.
The service at the Cadet Chapel is so impressive and interesting
that the majority of the cadets look forward with pleasure to Sunday
morning. I suppose that all former cadets will smile upon reading this
statement, when they remember the reluctance with which they donned
their dress coats and belts for the weekly service, at which they
had difficulty in keeping awake while the lessons and sermon were
being read. But times have changed since then, due principally to the
atmosphere of the new Chapel and the music of its splendid organ. Sir
Roger de Coverly would rejoice to behold so model a congregation and to
hear such excellent singing.
The interior of the Chapel is worthy of its beautiful service. “Storied
windows richly dight” rise majestically to the high Gothic roof and
throw upon the gray walls a myriad of delicate lights, pale blues and
pinks, saffrons, and deep purples. Two parallel rows of silk flags, the
scarlet of the artillery, the somber blue of the infantry, and the gold
of the cavalry, hang from the long covered galleries on either side
of the nave. The deep rich shades of the magnificent memorial window
shroud the chancel in a “dim religious light.” Nor is the service
lacking in military pomp. Company after company of gray-clad cadets,
their brass buttons shining, file briskly into the Chapel. The tramping
of hundreds of pairs of feet up the aisle and the rattling of their
buttons against the pews as they take their seats reverberate through
the vast hall. The officers, in their uniforms, and their families
assemble in the seats along the sides.
The first note from the organ announces the commencement of the
service. The choir of over a hundred voices, singing the processional
hymn, walk two by two in slow and solemn order up the aisle to their
places in the stalls. A wave of music sweeps through the church as the
procession moves forward. Last of all comes the Chaplain, immaculate in
fresh linen surplice, and conspicuous by his distinguished bearing.
The service proceeds. The Chaplain advances to the reading desk and
reads the lessons for the day. Inspiring hymns are then sung, followed
by an eloquent sermon upon subjects that touch the daily lives of the
cadets. Once again the celebrated organ peals forth, and during the
offertory casts with its music a spell over the devout congregation.
Two stalwart cadet officers then march quickly up the aisle to the
chancel where awaits the Chaplain to receive the offerings. The organ’s
music fills the church anew and the hall resounds to hundreds of
strong voices singing “Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” followed
immediately by the patriotic hymn,
My Country ’tis of thee,
Sweet Land of Liberty,
Of thee I sing--
Land where our Fathers died,
Land of the Pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountain side
Let Freedom ring!
The Chaplain standing upon the steps of the altar pronounces the solemn
benediction, which is scarcely concluded when the choir begins to sing
the “Amen” to the accompaniment of Holy Grail motif from _Parsifal_.
Faintly at first the singing arises from the stalls, then stronger and
stronger, then diminishing in volume until it dies away with a final
“Amen.”
Besides the service at the Chapel there is another service held on
Sundays. It is the Y. M. C. A., a purely religious body among the
cadets and not as in the cities a sort of club house where a swimming
pool, assembly rooms, and gymnasium are the main attractions. These
advantages are already a part of West Point’s equipment. The Y. M. C.
A. at the Academy meets every Sunday evening after supper in a hall
over one of the sally-ports, and here after a few prayers, a speaker
makes a short address. On week days the hall is frequented by cadets
only to read the papers or to play the victrola, and in Lent the
Chaplain holds afternoon services. Formerly the Chaplain held these
prayers immediately after breakfast, but once a cadet captain, wishing
to remind the cadets that the services would take place immediately
after the dismissal of the Battalion, mixed up his verbs and announced
very emphatically “cadets are _cautioned_ about the ten-minute service
in the Y. M. C. A.”! The Sunday service, however, is the reason for
the existence of the organization. The prayers are not long and the
addresses sometimes most interesting, especially when they relate to
the work that the cadet will have to do as an officer. The meetings are
usually terminated when the bugler blows the evening call to quarters
in the sally-port under the hall. Of all the sounds at West Point,
Sunday evening “call to quarters” is the most doleful and depressing.
It means that after the break of Saturday and Sunday, the cadet must
once more turn to his books and dig out the problems for Monday. When
he hears its melancholy, long-drawn-out notes, he has the Sunday
evening feeling, which is only a degree more cheerful than the blue
Monday feeling, and he reluctantly goes back to his room to begin anew
the weekly cycle.
The cadet is really never quite free from the spiritual influences of
the Academy. Nature, his Chapel, traditions, precept, and example so
arouse and sharpen his insight into things and into himself that his
day gradually assumes a new background. These are the influences that,
when he is an officer, draw him back to his Alma Mater and make him
speak of it always with undisguised affection.