COMMENCEMENT 1922

Old J. and I usually manage to go to Commencement together — in off-years, when we aren't blessed with a reunion of our own. This has its distinct advantages. You don't have any duties or any claims upon you. The task of remembering the faces and names of your classmates' wives is absent from your list of troubles. You see a lot of men who were in college with you, but whose year brings them back at other times than your own periods of reunion. Decidedly it is a good idea. I recommend it to others who may be near enough to Hanover for a trip by rail or motor at the Commencement season.

Further, we have discovered that it isn't a half bad plan to sojourn on such occasions at "Leb." Leb., which was once a place of pious pilgrimage on infrequent occasions behind the mettlesome steeds procurable (at a price) from the stables of the late Hamp Howe, is now — thanks to Mr. Ford and a multitude of other benefactors — only about 20 minutes away and offers most eligible accommodation. One doesn't stand in line for meals. One has no guilty feeling that if one lingers over one's tenderloin steak there is a host of hungry and angry folk at the door, all waiting impatiently for their chance.

To be sure, there are minor disadvantages. The late Mr. Rogers built his admirable Lebanon hostelry in such juxtaposition to various and sundry grade crossings that the hooting of nocturnal locomotives accompanies your dreams — if indeed you are permitted to dream. Nevertheless the arrangement appeals to J. and me, and still does, despite our recent experiences with mud and ruts on three daily round trips between Lebanon and the college. What, I ask you, compares for inspiring beauty with the first view of the cloistered plain, as you sail over the brow of the hill just east of the town ? Hanover is a place of unusual charm in any case; but I respectfully submit that it looks best of all as you come down to it from the "Aetny" road—much better than when you toil up from Norwich or the June.

It was a wet Commencement—meteorologically only, however. In other respects I believe it to have been the most arid ever recorded. But J. Pluvius, with that famous sieve of which Tute Lord once told us in an unbending moment, made full atonement for the changes wrought by statute and constitutional amendment since the days when Eleazar conveyed to the pine-clad slopes of the Connecticut his priceless university equipment in a well-bound hogshead. It rained — with a persistence worthy of a vastly better cause. Only on Commencement Day did the sun deign to peep forth for a few brief moments. The remainder of the time he was deeply veiled by mists which floated low in the treetops, discouraging class day orators and dimming the splendor of the sweethearts' raiment. It caused the observance of Class Day to be postponed from Saturday, when it was originally planned, to Sunday — when conditions were if anything a trifle worse at times. But needs must when an urgent person drives — so the program was put through against all obstacles, with only the minor disadvantage that it was wholly lost for J. and me. I said we had no duties — and we availed ourselves of the privilege to remain in comfortable seclusion, with pipes and such ancient comrades as could be unearthed at the headquarters of '92.

Such favorite indoor sports as the president's reception at the Commons, and listening to the year's musical play — called for some reason "Hush !" — were not seriously interfered with. Neither was there any excuse, save an old grad's indolence, for missing the admirable baccalaureate sermon preached on Sunday by Chaplain Lt. Frank L. Janeway to a class of something over 230 anxious seniors — always the most inspiring of auditors, which fact would impel any orator to do his best.

If I were a clergyman instead of a hack-writer I should covet the baccalaureate opportunity; and if those hungry young men went empty away it would not be my fault. For I assume, as I have often said and perhaps remark elsewhere in this very issue of the MAGAZINE, I don't hold with the notion that the aspiring graduate of a college is a bumptious young cub, burning to reform the world according to the latest 1922 model. I think he's a pitiably bothered young man a good deal more afraid of what one calls the Great World, than he will be after two or three years of contact with it. Think what a chance to pump wholesome doctrines of modesty and industry into a receptive reservoir like that. I almost wish I had sought the ministry.

It appears in this case to have been rather a militant sermon, such as a chaplain with a war record knows best how to deliver. It had to do with the "challengers of the world" and it breathed a note of courage as well as a note of condemnation for slackers, civil and military. Work or fight — fish or cut bait! The preacher reminded his audience that nothing in life can take the place of goodness and further admonished them that among other useful qualities for life is a capacity for "coming back." Every one in this struggle is pretty sure to get wounds; and the question is how soon you can recuperate from them and get back to the lines. He counselled further (and wisely) to keep a sense of humor and to keep a resolute faith in God.

There seems to be no valedictory by the students any more; but there is something better — a valedictory from the president to them. Dr. Hopkins delivered it at the baccalaureate service on Sunday. It is so typical of the thing that ought to be said that I want to reproduce it almost entire. He said:

"If life be viewed as the struggle we know it to be, it is no mere figure of speech to address you as members of a reserve army. For a period you have been relieved from the insistent duties of the firing line, that occasion might be offered you for special training and for preparation for widest availability in time of need.

"If our years together in this historic college have been usefully spent, we must needs think of ourselves at this time as members of a mobile force accredited as having had especial opportunities, through which an oppressed civilization has right to expect succor and relief at points where its lines are most definitely strained.

"The college influence has been constantly and designedly directed toward producing in you an open-mindedness for the consideration of new points of view and for the revaluation of convictions previously acquired, whether by 'nature or nurture'. The process is not without its seeming hazard, however, for in some men the detachment from preconceived opinions, whence-so-ever they may have been derived, devitalizes and de-energizes future effort and weakens capacity for new conviction, more legitimately derived. Prejudice of opinion unquestionably has qualities of fixedness for some men that unfortunately cannot be transferred to intelligence of opinion. Pray God, the number of whom this is true may be small among us! .

"One of the recognized statesmen in Washington said recently in effect, that a tragic attribute of life was the amount of time required from the wise, to correct the mistakes of the merely good — and the truth of this statement is attested at all times among all peoples. Goodness of impulse and worthiness of motive are absolutely essential concomitants of intelligence but they are in no wise substitutes, and unaccompanied by intelligence they may even enhance evil. So it comes about that in church and state and school we see not only individuals but great groups of the merely good,' working- strenuously for ends which real intelligence would make them know to be subversive of all that makes for progress and betterment of mankind.

"But assuming that we ascribe to you intelligence as one premise of the syllogism of desirable accomplishment — we do ascribe it to you — we still need assurance on that about which the college data cannot so clearly give evidence—namely, positiveness and force of character. The present is even less than formerly a time wherein passivity or negativeness can be endured. Aggressiveness of intelligence and positiveness of conviction are indispensable for individuals or groups among whom there is to be any tangible influence which shall make for advance, rather than retrogression, for light rather than darkness, for satisfaction rather than unhappiness.

"You men of the class of 1922 have at least this advantage over many men who have gone out from colleges in decades past, that the world is coming to recognize its plight and to crave the assistance of any who may have possibility of relieving it of sore distress. Whereever your lot shall fall in life, like hesitancy of purpose will be found and like lack of organization for the onward march of society. There is particular appropriateness in stating the fact to Dartmouth men that the intelligence of ambition, the power of conviction and the aggressiveness of inspiration which ever have marked the spirit of the' pioneer are vital needs of the present moment. It ought not to be without significance among us that this college was founded, has prospered and has grown strong under the motto 'The voice of one crying in the wilderness' and strength is added if, with vibrant resonance of tone we complete the text, crying in these times, in the waste places of mind and soul and spirit, 'Prepare ye the way of the Lord'."

J. and I did manage to attend the recital on the new Streeter organ in the chapel Sunday evening — a concert which was designed by Mr. Cronham, the official organist, to reveal the manifold possibilities of that noble instrument. If you remember the venerable old wheezer of an organ that stood 30 years ago in the Old Chapel in Dartmouth Hall and which later, unless I am mistaken, dragged out a half-forgotten existence in the Y. M. C. A., you will appreciate the difference that a generation has wrought. No modern sophomore would venture to remove the pipes of Gen. Streeter's munificent gift in order to replace them with a row of fish-horns and thus enliven the matutinal hymn in quite unlooked-for ways! I understand this glorious organ has incorporated in it some of the old Rollins Chapel instrument of my time—but if so it is lost in the shuffle of up-to-date vox humanas, xylophones and chimes. Mr. Cronham showed us what the organ could do in the way of stunts if you wanted it to — and also, thanks be, played one or two pieces of real music to show us what music was at its best.

On Monday, thanks to an interlude in the rain, we saw a ball game on Memorial Field. The fact that a game could be played, even under such difficulties of mud and wet grass, suffices to show how admirably the drainage of that new athletic meadow has been contrived. Cornell, owing to one bad inning, beat us 4 to 3; but it was a snappy game, revealing prowess on both sides which it was a pleasure to watch.

Monday afternoon saw the beginning of the more serious business of Commencement especially from the alumni standpoint. The official meeting of the alumni body was convened at 2 o'clock in the new old chapel, the president, Merrill Shurtleff '92, in the chair, and looking very much as he did in the fall of 1890, when I first saw him pitching ball on the campus just in front of the church. The minutes of this meeting appear elsewhere in the MAGAZINE.

Professor George D. Lord presided oyer the meeting of Phi Beta Kappa. It is more fun to sit under the professor's presiding now than it was when he held forth in the North Greek Room years ago. He imparted the momentous secrets of this learned society to a delegation of very worthy seniors and instructed them in the mysteries of its grip which wasn't amiss—because J. and I had forgotten there was any grip. The new officers are: President Ernest M. Hopkins 01, vice-presidents, Ashley K. Hardy '94 Andrew Marshall '01; secretary-treasurer, Harold G. Rugg '06.

And so out into the mist again, to seek various fraternity receptions - always one of the enjoyable features of alumni day. And then an evening of social intercourse, a concert by the musical clubs, and finally that inestimable joy, the promenade concert by the band, for which quite happily the heavens forebore a term and gave the assembled lutamists their chance.

Commencement Day came closest to fine weather that the circumstances permitted. What has become of that fine old figure (his name escapes me) who of old marshaled the older graduates to the procession ? Gathered to his fathers, no doubt! But there were marshals in plenty, generally directed by Professor Clark, and the procession marched on schedule. As things go now, 1922 figures as rather a small class; but when 233 gowned seniors assemble in column of twos it makes a pretty good line-up, especially when you can look back and see something less than 90 young men (among whom is yourself) marching over the same ground away back in the ages. Then followed the gorgeous academicians, with their hoods in colors to shame Joseph's celebrated surtout; then the stately trustees, each with an honorary degree candidate leaning on his arm, or at least walking beside him — including this year, I was glad to find, one woman, Mrs. Dorothy Canfield Fisher, on whom the college worthily bestowed its literary and educational accolade. Last of all came the tatterdemalion alumni like ourselves, arrayed in nondescript garments, but burning with zeal — all headed for the feast of reason in Webster Hall and passing, according to custom, through the opened ranks of the graduating class. I knew how they regarded us. I remember how our own class looked on the class of 1874, back for its 20th reunion and rated by our company as thoroughly venerable, if not already a sort of miracle of longevity! Never mind—those boys will learn, among other things, that some men come back for their 60th and 70th! So mote it be with every one of them!

Dartmouth has her musical traditions, from "Amesbury" at the Sing-Out to the Doxology at the end of things. I am glad when the band strikes up Milton's famous paraphrase of Psalm CXXXVI, to the old tune of "Nuremberg." It has the sweet savor of collegiate antiquity. In due time Dick Hovey's stirring hymn, which we always sing later in the program, will be as old in honor — and perchance by then I can forget the derisive comment of a Harvard friend on those lines that tell about our having the "hillwinds in our veins" and the "granite of New Hampshire" in our heads. He told me that he had always wondered about Dartmouth men until he discovered this confession of "wind in the circulatory system and granite in the coco!" It is hard for me to avoid wishing the poet had not been quite so freely licensed in that one spot—but the rest is glorious, and Harry Wellman's music adds amazingly to the zest and go of the thing.

Three young men enlightened us in time-honored form as Commencement orators. I was glad I had no task of judging among them, for they were amazingly even in excellence. Mr. Troyer S. Anderson told us his views about the sure foundations of peace — laudably keeping one foot on the ground and generally two, in a way rather uncommon with such as launch themselves at this topic. Mr. Wilbur Warren Bullen dealt with the economic future of Germany, reminding us that while Germany may have been very wicked indeed she couldn't very well pay a fine unless somehow or other she could find the money. Mr. Shaw Livermore (with salutatory rank) dealt in ten minutes' time with the century between 1822 and 1922 — no mean feat, and very well done indeed.

The conferring of degrees at wholesale, as it has to be done now, lacks the old impressiveness and you catch yourself wondering if the men will get the right parchments as they file past in a swift procession. I suppose they exchange if they do not. It would be awful if John Jones had to go through life with Harry Smith's A.B. credentials! But for the senior this bestowal is the crucial thing — this is the act of manumission, of emancipation. Once he has that muniment of academic title, he can snap his fingers at the faculty — if he is so disposed. It is like the pronouncement that now you are man and wife; only instead of tying you up it sets you free. The cartoonist would call it the thrill that comes once in a life-time.

Honorary degrees must be perplexing things for those who have them in their gift. It cannot be easy to single out the eminent persons on whom you wish to bestow insignia of approval — there are so many who merit the honor and so many colleges all anxious to be generous. This year Dartmouth chose, as it seemed to me unusually well — the one regret being that our former ambassador to England, Hon. John William Davis, was precluded from attending and thus missed for the time being admission to our honorary fellowship as a Doctor of Laws. But Secretary Mellon was on hand and was invested with this academic title amidst well merited applause.

Since President Hopkins was uncommonly felicitous, even for him, in his characterizations of the various candidates I am going to append here the entire text of the remarks which introduced the aspirants, both by Professor Poor, who presented the candidates, and by President Hopkins, who presented their various degrees. This was the ritual:

MASTER OF ARTS

Harry Chandler

(Professor Poor) Matriculant with the class of 1889 in Dartmouth College; influential citizen and editor.

(President Hopkins) Transplanter of stern and rugged qualities of character from the New England hills to the sunny shores of the western ocean; participator in all good works for civic betterment, whether of city, state or nation; whose counsels are listened to with respect and whose judgments are valued for conscientious disinterestedness; who by executive genius has enhanced the prestige of a great newspaper, mighty before; today we have great pleasure in enrolling you, by invitation within a fellowship which once you were denied seeking for yourself by adverse fortune.

William Frederick Geiger

(Professor Poor) Progressive administrator of a great public school system.

(President Hopkins) Emissary who has borne the ideals of a historic north country college of the East to the public school system of the Northwest; sound and progressive in theory and clean-cut in execution of wise policies, your Alma Mater has pride in the contribution which has been made to the educational establishment of a western city through you, her son and in recognition of this designates you anew as hers.

Charles Alden Tracy

(Professor Poor) Untiring in his devotion to the noble traditions and present welfare of an historic school.

(President Hopkins) Member of that guild whose altruistic effort long made Dartmouth's name respected in the up-building of the New England academies; indefatigable in industry, constructive in accomplishment and capable in administration; restorer of its early prestige and widespread respect to a longestablished New Hampshire school, to which you have brought anew material prosperity and scholastic reputation.

DOCTOR OF DIVINITY

John Thomson Dallas

(Professor Poor) Graduate of Yale University the sympathetic friend and trusted counselor of us all.

(President Hopkins) Respected and beloved by college men for qualities of simplicity and genuineness which adorn the spirit of your service and persuasively command attention for the principles whose worth you preach; wise shepherd of a far-from-docile flock, and pastor extraordinary in the pervasiveness and helpfulness of your influence which reaches far beyond the technical boundaries of your parish, we now make formal record of what has long been fact, that you not only are among Dartmouth men but of them.

Benjamin Tinkham Marshall

(Professor Poor) Devoted to the increase and development of educational opportunities for women.

(President Hopkins) Long associated, as undergraduate and member of the faculty with the life of this college; adequately trained for, and eminently successful in the work of the church; exemplifying, in the value of your contribution to the strength of a woman's college of increasing prestige, that the Christian ministry still remains a desirable background for academic administrative work.

Charles Clarkson Merrill

(Professor Poor) Effective organizer in the interest of a broader Christianity.

(President Hopkins) Through whom it is demonstrated that there still issues from the college that zeal and solicitude for the cause of religion in its broader aspects for the development of which men more exclusively sought the colleges in earlier years; whose faithfulness in the commissions of an increasing importance successively assigned to you through years past has brought constantly added opportunities and obligations; now assigned to the vital task of stimulating and coordinating the work of your denomination in a great state.

DOCTOR OF LETTERS

Dorothy Canfield Fisher

(Professor Poor) Graduate of Ohio State University; distinguished author, scholar, organizer of relief abroad and public servant. (President Hopkins) Flexible in the utilization of your talents and versatile in the activities into which breadth of interest leads you; representative of the finest influence of higher education upon the receptive mind; contributor to the ideals of citizenship in your work in war and peace, abroad and at home, for youth and adults,— we invite you back today into the atmosphere of academic environment, with which you have been familiar since your birth, conscious and appreciative of your distinguished attainments, but principally desirous of paying" tribute to you as neighbor and friend.

Robert Lincoln O'Brien

(Professor Poor) Graduate of Harvard University; the respected editor of one of New England's leading metropolitan dailies. (President Hopkins) Early observant of, and associated with, the conduct of public affairs in high places, imposing upon yourself, from the beginning, the rigid discipline of a thorough apprenticeship as preparation for major usefulness in later work in your chosen field. Keen in criticism, lucid in judgment, and facile in exposition, — the variety of your contacts, on the one hand, and the definiteness of' commitment to your professional standards on the other, make your desk a rostrum and your printed page a forum place whither men come for interpretation of current affairs and suggestion as to the practical means for attaining to civic betterment.

DOCTOR OF SCIENCE

Henry Norris Russell

(Professor Poor) Graduate of Princeton University; brilliant investigator in the field of astronomy and astrophysics.

(President Hopkins) Skilful pilot of the human mind through seas of space; possessed of rare insight and equipped with ability to apply wide knowledge to the solution of problems dealing with physical and chemical conditions within your chosen field, thus adding to the sum of knowledge concerning the dimensions and distribution of the 'stars in space; distinguished for indispensable contributions to the perfection of theories concerning the cause and manner of stellar evolution.

George Owen Squier

(Professor Poor) Graduate of the United States Military Academy; distinguished discoverer of new methods of establishing communication.

(President Hopkins) In a great metropolitan library there is a painting by Puvis de Chavannes, symbolic of physics, in which are featured poles and wires, but the spirit of whose caption is less restrained by conventions and reads, "By wondrous agency of electricity speech flashes through space and swift as lightning bears tidings of good and evil." In the light of all the wondrous works, in which you have been so prominent a factor, commandeering the powers of electricity and applying these to intercommunication, especially radio development your mastery of science stands as assured as the inventiveness of your mind. Therefor, recognizing your distinction in scholarly attainments no less than your capacity in the technique of military affairs-; who in your own achievement have illustrated the constructive work for peace that can be included in preventive measures against war.

DOCTOR OF LAWS

Andrew William Mellon

(Professor Poor) Educated at the University of faithful, independent public servant.

(President Hopkins) To whom the theory that public office is a public trust is made practice; long tried and proved in breadth of policy and sense of obligation to society at large which characterized the administration of your personal affairs; intellectually keen and quietly masterful; in whom judgment is not warped by partisan bias and decision is not made hesitant by the unprecedented magnitude of the problems for whose solution you have been, made responsible.

Last act of all, the alumni luncheon, where one tries to catch even for the luncheon bought so many years ago with one's graduating tax for ravenous predecessors. At this, the feast of reason always exceeds the more material provender — in my humble judgment.

After President Hopkins had introduced the toastmaster, Merrill Shurtleff '92, the after-luncheon speakers were introduced.

As representative of the recipients of Honorary Degrees Mr. Mellon had been asked to speak, and he was again greeted with the enthusiasm that was a sure indication of the esteem of Dartmouth graduates and their hearty welcome of him into the Dartmouth fellowship.

The forty-year class was represented by William E. Strong of Boston, the thirty-five-year class by Charles D. Milliken, who had travelled from San Francisco to attend the reunion, the graduating class of 1922 by T. H. Pinney, and the Trustees by John M. Gile '87, whose second term of office as Alumni Trustee expired in June. It is significant, however, that although Dr. Gile retires from the board at this time, the class of '87 will still be represented on that body by Fred A. Howland, the newly-elected trustee.

The president's summary of gifts received during the year showed benefactions of rising a million dollars, the principal concrete item being the Steele Memorial Chemical Laboratory, presented by the late Sanford H. Steele at a cost of $248,887. Income from the estate of Benjamin A. Kimball approximated $250,000; a part of the Margaret Olivia Sage bequest came to $246,767; and a multitude of smaller gifts, each generous in its own way, swelled the total. In round numbers $54,000 had been received for the Memorial Athletic Field in honor of the men who died in the war; and $47,000 for the Tucker Foundation (alumni fund).

The class of 1887 won the '94 cup for attendance at a reunion, with a percentage of 83.33 members back — which sounds very like a record. No one else came anywhere near it.

So endeth Dartmouth College Commencement in the 153 rd year of the college existence.

At the Fence on Commencement Morning

ANDREW W. MELLON Secretary of the Treasury, recipient of the Honorary Degree of Doctor of LawsPhotograph by Trinity Court Studios, Inc.