earnest. Much of its social life centered around the fraternities, and
although they did not leave me without an invitation to join them it was
not until senior year that an opportunity came to belong to one that I
wished to accept. It has been my observation in life that, if one will
only exercise the patience to wait, his wants are likely to be filled.
My class was rather small, not numbering more than eighty-five in a
student body of about four hundred. President Julius H. Seelye, who had
led the college for about twenty years with great success as an educator
and inspirer of young men, had just retired. He had been succeeded by
President Merrill E. Gates, a man of brilliant intellect and fascinating
personality though not the equal of his predecessor in directing college
policy. But the faculty as a whole was excellent, having many strong
men, and some who were preeminent in the educational field.
The college of that day had a very laudable desire to get students, and
having admitted them, it was equally alert in striving to keep them and
help them get an education, with the result that very few left of their
own volition and almost none were dropped for failure in their work.
There was no marked exodus at the first examination period, which was
due not only to the attitude of the college but to the attitude of the
students, who did not go there because they wished to experiment for a
few months with college life and be able to say thereafter they had been
in college, but went because they felt they had need of an education,
and expected to work hard for that purpose until the course was
finished. There were few triflers.
A small number became what we called sports, but they were not looked on
with favor, and they have not survived. While the class has lost many
excellent men besides, yet it seems to be true that unless men live
right they die. Things are so ordered in this world that those who
violate its law cannot escape the penalty. Nature is inexorable. If men
do not follow the truth they cannot live.
My absence from home during my freshman year was more easy for me to
bear because I was no longer leaving my father alone. Just before the
opening of college he had married Miss Carrie A. Brown, who was one of
the finest women of our neighborhood. I had known her all my life. After
being without a mother nearly seven years I was greatly pleased to find
in her all the motherly devotion that she could have given me if I had
been her own son. She was a graduate of Kimball Union Academy and had
taught school for some years. Loving books and music she was not only a
mother to me but a teacher. For thirty years she watched over me and
loved me, welcoming me when I went home, writing me often when I was
away, and encouraging me in all my efforts. When at last she sank to
rest she had seen me made Governor of Massachusetts and knew I was being
considered for the Presidency.
It seems as though good influences had always been coming into my life.
Perhaps I have been more fortunate in that respect than others. But
while I am not disposed to minimize the amount of evil in the world I am
convinced that the good predominates and that it is constantly all about
us, ready for our service if only we will accept it.
In the Amherst College of my day a freshman was not regarded as
different from the other classes. He wore no distinctive garb, or
emblem, and suffered no special indignities. It would not have been
judicious for him to appear on the campus with a silk hat and cane, but
as none of the other students resorted to that practice this single
restriction was not a severe hardship. A cane rush always took place
between the two lower classes very early in the fall term, but it was
confined within the limits of good-natured sport, where little damage
was done beyond a few torn clothes. If we had undertaken to have a class
banquet where the sophomores could reach us, it undoubtedly would have
brought on a collision, but when the time came for one we tactfully and
silently departed for Westfield, under cover of a winter evening, where
we were not found or molested.
It had long been the practice at Amherst to give careful attention to
physical culture. It had, I believe, the first college gymnasium in this
country. Each student on entering was given a thorough examination,
furnished with a chart showing any bodily deficiencies and given
personal direction for their removal. The attendance of the whole class
was required at the gymnasium drill for four periods each week, and
voluntary work on the floor was always encouraged. We heard a great deal
about a sound mind in a sound body.
At the time of my entrance the two college dormitories were so badly out
of repair that they were little used. Later they were completely
remodeled and became fully occupied. About ten fraternity houses
furnished lodgings for most of the upper class men, but the lower class
men roomed at private houses. All the students took their meals in
private houses, so that there was a general comingling of all classes
and all fraternities around the table, which broke up exclusive circles
and increased college democracy.
The places of general assembly were for religious worship, which
consisted of the chapel exercises at the first morning period each week
day, and church service in the morning, with vespers in the late
afternoon, on Sundays. Regular attendance at all of these was required.
Of course we did not like to go and talked learnedly about the right of
freedom of worship, and the bad mental and moral reactions from which
we were likely to suffer as a result of being forced to hear scriptural
readings, psalm singings, prayers and sermons. We were told that our
choice of a college was optional, but that Amherst had been founded by
pious men with the chief object of training students to overcome the
unbelief which was then thought to be prevalent, that religious
instruction was a part of the prescribed course, and that those who
chose to remain would have to take it. If attendance on these religious
services ever harmed any of the men of my time I have never been
informed of it. The good it did I believe was infinite. Not the least of
it was the discipline that resulted from having constantly to give some
thought to things that young men would often prefer not to consider. If
we did not have the privilege of doing what we wanted to do, we had the
much greater benefit of doing what we ought to do. It broke down our
selfishness, it conquered our resistance, it supplanted impulse, and
finally it enthroned reason.
In intercollegiate athletics Amherst stood well. It won its share of
trophies on the diamond, the gridiron and the track, but it did not
engage in any of the water sports. The games with Williams and
Dartmouth aroused the keenest interest, and honors were then about even.
But these outside activities were kept well within bounds and were not
permitted to interfere with the real work of the college. Pratt Field
had just been completed and was well equipped for outdoor sports, while
Pratt Gymnasium had every facility for indoor training. These places
were well named, for the Pratt boys were very active in athletics. One
of them was usually captain of the football team. I remember that in
1892 George D. Pratt, afterwards Conservation Commissioner of the State
of New York, led his team to victory against Dartmouth, thirty to two,
and a week later kicked ten straight goals in a gale of wind at the
championship game with Williams, leaving the score sixty to nothing in
favor of Amherst. But both these colleges have since retaliated with a
great deal of success.
In these field events I was only an observer, contenting myself with
getting exercise by faithful attendance at the class drills in the
gymnasium. In these the entire class worked together with dumbbells for
most of the time, but they involved sufficient marching about the floor
to give a military flavor which I found very useful in later life when I
came in contact with military affairs during my public career.
The Presidential election of 1892 came in my sophomore year. I favored
the renomination of Harrison and joined the Republican Club of the
college, which participated in a torch-light parade, but the
unsatisfactory business condition of the country carried the victory to
Cleveland.
For nearly two years I continued my studies of Latin and Greek. Ours was
the last class that read Demosthenes on the Crown with Professor William
S. Tyler, the head of the Greek department, who had been with the
college about sixty years. He was a patriarch in appearance with a long
beard and flowing white hair.
His reverence for the ancient Greeks approached a religion. It was
illustrated by a story, perhaps apocryphal, that one of his sons was
sent to a theological school, and not wishing to engage in the ministry,
wrote his father that the faculty of the school held that Socrates was
in hell. Such a reflection on the Greek philosopher so outraged the old
man’s loyalty that he wrote his son that the school was no place for him
and directed him to come home at once.
In spite of his eighty-odd years he put the fire of youth into the
translation of those glowing periods of the master orator, which were
such eloquent appeals to the patriotism of the Greeks and such
tremendous efforts to rouse them to the defense of their country. Those
passages of the marvelous oration he said he had loved to read during
the Civil War.
My studies of the ancient languages I supplemented with short courses in
French, German and Italian.
But I never became very proficient in the languages. I was more
successful at mathematics, which I pursued far enough to take calculus.
This course was mostly under George D. Olds, who came to teach when we
entered to study, which later caused us to adopt him as an honorary
member of our class. In time he became President of the College. He had
a peculiar power to make figures interesting and knew how to hold the
attention and affection of his students. It was under him that we
learned of the universal application of the laws of mathematics. We saw
the discoveries of Kepler, Descartes, Newton and their associates
bringing the entire universe under one law, so that the most distant
point of light revealed by the largest reflector marches in harmony with
our own planet. We discovered, too, that the same force that rounds a
tear-drop holds all the myriad worlds of the universe in a balanced
position. We found that we dwelt in the midst of a Unity which was all
subject to the same rules of action. My education was making some
headway.
In the development of every boy who is going to amount to anything there
comes a time when he emerges from his immature ways and by the greater
precision of his thought and action realizes that he has begun to find
himself. Such a transition finally came to me. It was not accidental but
the result of hard work. If I had permitted my failures, or what seemed
to me at the time a lack of success, to discourage me I cannot see any
way in which I would ever have made progress. If we keep our faith in
ourselves, and what is even more important, keep our faith in regular
and persistent application to hard work, we need not worry about the
outcome.
During my first two years at Amherst I studied hard but my marks were
only fair. It needed some encouragement from my father for me to
continue. In junior year, however, my powers began to increase and my
work began to improve. My studies became more interesting. I found the
course in history under Professor Anson D. Morse was very absorbing. His
lectures on medieval and modern Europe were inspiring, seeking to give
his students not only the facts of past human experience but also their
meaning. He was very strong on the political side of history, bringing
before us the great figures from Charlemagne to Napoleon with remarkable
distinctness, and showing us the influence of the Great Gregory and
Innocent III. The work of Abélard and Erasmus was considered, and the
important era of Luther and Calvin thoroughly explored.
In due time we crossed the Channel with William the Conqueror and
learned how he subdued and solidified the Kingdom of England. The
significance of the long struggle with the Crown before the Parliament
finally reached a position of independence was disclosed, and the slow
growth of a system of liberty under the law, until at last it was firmly
established, was carefully explained. We saw the British Empire rise
until it ruled the seas. The brilliance of the statesmanship of the
different periods, the rugged character of the patriotic leaders, of
Anselm and Simon de Montfort, of Cromwell and the Puritans, who dared to
oppose the tyranny of the kings, the growth of learning, the development
of commerce, the administration of justice--all these and more were
presented for our consideration. Whatever was essential to a general
comprehension of European history we had.
But it was when he turned to the United States that Professor Morse
became most impressive. He placed particular emphasis on the era when
our institutions had their beginning. Washington was treated with the
greatest reverence, and a high estimate was placed on the statesmanlike
qualities and financial capacity of Hamilton, but Jefferson was not
neglected. In spite of his many vagaries it was shown that in saving
the nation from the danger of falling under the domination of an
oligarchy, and in establishing a firm rule of the people which was
forever to remain, he vindicated the soundness of our political
institutions. The whole course was a thesis on good citizenship and good
government. Those who took it came to a clearer comprehension not only
of their rights and liberties but of their duties and responsibilities.
The department of public speaking was under Professor Henry A. Frink. He
had a strong hold on his students. His work went along with the other
work, practically through the four years, beginning with composition and
recitation and passing to the preparation and delivery of orations and
participation in public debates. The allied subject of rhetoric I took
under Professor John F. Genung, a scholarly man who was held in high
respect. The courses in biology, chemistry, economics and geology I was
not able to pursue, though they all interested me and were taught by
excellent men.
Not the least in the educational values of Amherst was its beautiful
physical surroundings. While the college buildings of the early
nineties were not impressive, the town with its spacious common and fine
elm trees was very attractive. It was located on the arch of a slight
ridge flanked on the north by Mount Warner and on the south by the
Holyoke Range. The east rose over wooded slopes to the horizon, and the
west looked out across the meadows of the Connecticut to the spires of
Northampton and the Hampshire Hills beyond. Henry Ward Beecher has dwelt
with great admiration and affection on the beauties of this region,
where he was a student. Each autumn, when the foliage had put on its
richest tints, the College set aside Mountain Day to be devoted to the
contemplation of the scenery so wonderfully displayed in forest, hill,
and dale, before the frosts of winter laid them bare.
It always seemed to me that all our other studies were in the nature of
a preparation for the course in philosophy. The head of this department
was Charles E. Garman, who was one of the most remarkable men with whom
I ever came in contact. He used numerous text books, which he furnished,
and many pamphlets that he not only had written but had printed himself
on a hand press in his home. These he pledged us to show to no one
outside the class, because, being fragmentary, and disclosing but one
line of argument which might be entirely demolished in succeeding
lessons, they might involve him in some needless controversy. It is
difficult to imagine his superior as an educator. Truly he drew men out.
Beginning in the spring of junior year his course extended through four
terms. The first part was devoted to psychology, in order to find out
the capacity and the limits of the human mind. It was here that we
learned the nature of habits and the great advantage of making them our
allies instead of our enemies.
Much stress was placed on a thorough mastery and careful analysis of all
the arguments presented by the writers on any subject under
consideration. Then when it was certain that they were fully understood
they were criticized, so that what was unsound was rejected and what was
true accepted. We were thoroughly drilled in the necessity of
distinguishing between the accidental and the essential. The proper
method of presenting a subject and an argument was discussed. We were
not only learning about the human mind but learning how to use it,
learning how to think. A problem would often be stated and the class
left to attempt to find the solution unaided by the teacher. Above all
we were taught to follow the truth whithersoever it might lead. We were
warned that this would oftentimes be very difficult and result in much
opposition, for there would be many who were not going that way, but if
we pressed on steadfastly it was sure to yield the peaceable fruits of
the mind. It does.
Our investigation revealed that man is endowed with reason, that the
human mind has the power to weigh evidence, to distinguish between right
and wrong and to know the truth. I should call this the central theme of
his philosophy. While the quantity of the truth we know may be small it
is the quality that is important. If we really know one truth the
quality of our knowledge could not be surpassed by the Infinite.
We looked upon Garman as a man who walked with God. His course was a
demonstration of the existence of a personal God, of our power to know
Him, of the Divine immanence, and of the complete dependence of all the
universe on Him as the Creator and Father “in whom we live and move and
have our being.” Every reaction in the universe is a manifestation of
His presence. Man was revealed as His son, and nature as the hem of His
garment, while through a common Fatherhood we are all embraced in a
common brotherhood. The spiritual appeal of music, sculpture, painting
and all other art lies in the revelation it affords of the Divine
beauty.
The conclusions which followed from this position were logical and
inescapable. It sets man off in a separate kingdom from all the other
creatures in the universe, and makes him a true son of God and a
partaker of the Divine nature. This is the warrant for his freedom and
the demonstration of his equality. It does not assume all are equal in
degree but all are equal in kind. On that precept rests a foundation for
democracy that cannot be shaken. It justifies faith in the people.
No doubt there are those who think they can demonstrate that this
teaching was not correct. With
[Illustration:
Underwood & Underwood
CALVIN COOLIDGE
_At the age of three_]
them I have no argument. I know that in experience it has worked. In
time of crisis my belief that people can know the truth, that when it is
presented to them they must accept it, has saved me from many of the
counsels of expediency. The spiritual nature of men has a power of its
own that is manifest in every great emergency from Runnymede to Marston
Moor, from the Declaration of Independence to the abolition of slavery.
In ethics he taught us that there is a standard of righteousness, that
might does not make right, that the end does not justify the means and
that expediency as a working principle is bound to fail. The only hope
of perfecting human relationship is in accordance with the law of
service under which men are not so solicitous about what they shall get
as they are about what they shall give. Yet people are entitled to the
rewards of their industry. What they earn is theirs, no matter how small
or how great. But the possession of property carries the obligation to
use it in a larger service. For a man not to recognize the truth, not to
be obedient to law, not to render allegiance to the State, is for him to
be at war with his own nature, to commit suicide. That is why “the
wages of sin is death.” Unless we live rationally we perish, physically,
mentally, spiritually.
A great deal of emphasis was placed on the necessity and dignity of
work. Our talents are given us in order that we may serve ourselves and
our fellow men. Work is the expression of intelligent action for a
specified end. It is not industry, but idleness, that is degrading. All
kinds of work from the most menial service to the most exalted station
are alike honorable. One of the earliest mandates laid on the human race
was to subdue the earth. That meant work.
If he was not in accord with some of the current teachings about
religion, he gave to his class a foundation for the firmest religious
convictions. He presented no mysteries or dogmas and never asked us to
take a theory on faith, but supported every position by facts and logic.
He believed in the Bible and constantly quoted it to illustrate his
position. He divested religion and science of any conflict with each
other, and showed that each rested on the common basis of our ability to
know the truth.
To Garman was given a power which took his class up into a high
mountain of spiritual life and left them alone with God.
In him was no pride of opinion, no atom of selfishness. He was a
follower of the truth, a disciple of the Cross, who bore the infirmities
of us all. Those who finished his course in the last term of senior year
found in their graduating exercises a real commencement, when they would
begin their efforts to serve their fellow men in the practical affairs
of life. Of course it was not possible for us to accept immediately the
results of his teachings or live altogether in accordance with them. I
do not think he expected it. He was constantly reminding us that the
spirit was willing but the flesh was _strong_, but that nevertheless, if
we would continue steadfastly to think on these things we would be
changed from glory to glory through increasing intellectual and moral
power. He was right.
To many my report of his course will seem incomplete and crude. I am not
writing a treatise but trying to tell what I secured from his teaching,
and relating what has seemed important in it to me, from the memory I
have retained of it, since I began it thirty-five years ago. He
expected it to be supplemented. He was fond of referring to it as a
mansion not made with hands, incomplete, but sufficient for our
spiritual habitation. What he revealed to us of the nature of God and
man will stand. Against it “the gates of hell shall not prevail.”
As I look back upon the college I am more and more impressed with the
strength of its faculty, with their power for good. Perhaps it has men
now with a broader preliminary training, though they then were profound
scholars, perhaps it has men of keener intellects though they then were
very exact in their reasoning, but the great distinguishing mark of all
of them was that they were men of character. Their words carried
conviction because we were compelled to believe in the men who uttered
them. They had the power not merely to advise but literally to instruct
their students.
In accordance with custom our class chose three of its members by
popular vote to speak at the commencement. To me was assigned the grove
oration, which according to immemorial practice deals with the record of
the class in a witty and humorous way. While my effort was not without
some success I very soon learned that making fun of people in a public
way was not a good method to secure friends, or likely to lead to much
advancement, and I have scrupulously avoided it.
In the latter part of my course my scholarship had improved, so that I
was graduated _cum laude_.