A GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY
"Anacreon sang of Love and Wine,And Pindar sang of horses,And Homer struck his harp divineTo celebrate war's courses.Tyrtaeus with his brands of songFired Spartan hearts to strive,But I've a nobler song, I singThe Class of '85."
So WE SANG with our class poet, Richard Hovey, at our Freshman Class Banquet in Montreal in February, 1882. Ours was a small class measured even by the standards o£ that time. We had 63 graduates and 16 other good fellows who did not finish. Of these 79 there are 30 left to join, either in presence or in spirit, in this celebration.
Dartmouth was a small college, just over 300 students in the college proper. Few and primitive were the buildings, without central heat or any plumbing. When we would kindle a fire or fain would cleanse the outer man we were, perforce, "Hewers of Wood and Drawers of Water," without a wail deploring the standards of living.
The number of teachers was small. I do not know whether the standards of learning in the faculty equalled that of today but I do know that in their devotion to their work, in their contempt for sham and the charlatan in scholarship or in politics, in their inherent instincts of honor and integrity they were men above reproach.
Our class was gathered from near and far. For the most part we were strangers to each other. Not one from a family of affluence or from a family of poverty. We came to know that all were from American homes where industry, honesty, and self reliance were exalted.
ETERNAL VERITIES
As boys we too often failed to follow our parental teaching, and as undergraduates we were by no means models of propriety. We knew all about the revolt of youth and we badgered our betters. We had all the foibles of immaturity regarding human relations but, with the passing years, we understand that in the precepts of home and the class rooms, as we knew them, were the eternal verities.
We do not say that to what we were taught here has been due all that members of the class have done in the 50 years. It may be that one would have had the same renown as a poet, one might have been as honored as a jurist, one engineer might have designed the emergency dams for the Panama Canal, one might have been as inspiring as a teacher of history, one might have had as wide influence on journalism and the rest of us might still, with a background such as ours, have been fairly good citizens had we been educated elsewhere.
I shall not discuss the subjects taught, or the manner of presentation, but I do remember some of the things we were not taught.
We were not taught that it is ever honorable to, unnecessarily, repudiate an honest debt either private or public.
We were not taught that the humanities sanction the robbery of the thrifty to give to the shifty.
We were not taught that mature men can be regimented and deprived of individual initiative without sinking into the stagnant slime of mediocrity.
THE FAME OF HOVEY
My time does not permit a chronicle of the lives of my classmates of 'B5 and I would not presume to evaluate the respective merits of all in order to choose a few to be mentioned. I shall refer only to those whose names are almost as dear to Dartmouth men as to the class of 'B5.
Richard Hovey. We knew him as a boy of 17, as a student marked by his personality, his scholarship and his genius. We knew him as a young man ascending the ladder toward enduring fame. His death, at the age of 36, possibly deprived the world of one of the brightest ornaments of American literature. You Dartmouth men remember him whenever you "give a rouse to the old mother" and "the college on the hill." His spirit is present whenever, in any land, "good fellows get together."
Herbert Darling Foster. I was in Exeter with Foster three years before coming to Dartmouth. I was the last of the class of 'B5 to be with him as he spent his last months in London.
As our class secretary for many years, it was he who most helped to preserve the bonds of friendship between us all. It was he who wrote our class histories, who arranged our reunions, who begged and bullied our attendance, and he was the genial host. His runic letters defied exact translation but we somehow grasped the meaning. Foster was a teacher and interpreter of History in Dartmouth for 34 years. He was the founder of that Department as it is today. To his energy, his scholarship and his inspiration is due, at least in part, the remarkable rebirth of the college under the administration of Dr. Tucker.
PROFESSOR FOSTER
Our thoughts of Foster are the pleasant memories of youth. You who were in his classes honor him as he was in his vigorous maturity,—compelling in his enthusiasm, youthful in his sympathies, straight forward in thought and in deed, he has left an imprint of his character in the minds of Dartmouth men.
You will recall, President Hopkins, that at our thirtieth year reunion the class of 'B5 presented to the college a fund of §lO,- 000. It was a gift of sacrifice in many instances, a gift denoting loyalty and devotion that can never be adequately expressed in that or any other way. We see around us convincing evidence that this fund has been wisely administered for the benefit of succeeding classes.
Around the "Old Pine" on the hill were always gathered the spirits of Dartmouth traditions. The tree was a monument, the place was a shrine. The Old Pine was shattered. The conception of the tower, of the granite of New Hampshire, was in the minds of the class of 'B5 and the corner stone was laid by the muscles of our arms. The tower was dedicated, in the faith of our fathers, by a voice of 'B5 and we were all, there on our commencement day, dedicated to love, honor and cherish our alma mater as long as we should live.
PERMANENCY OF A COLLEGE
In another half century there will be another Class of 'B5 and one of you graduates of today will stand here and welcome that class into the full fellowship of Dartmouth Alumni even as we, now, so heartily welcome you.
To you, my young friends, we throw the torch. 'Tis yours to keep alight the flame that has, through the generations, led our college and our country—"lest the old traditions fail."
President of the Class
COMMENCEMENT IS just around the corner and for many alumni this is theyear when they will return to Hanover forclass reunions, scheduled for the week-endiof June 12 to 15. The honored group istraditionally the Fifty Year Class. At theAlumni Luncheon in the gymnasium onSaturday noon of Commencement a representative of the class of 1886, James W.Newton, will give a brief address in behalfof the members of his class. Last year Dr.Brooks, formerly the president of ClarksonCollege lof Technology, responded for theclass of 'B5. His address is published herewith.
