Claude M. Fuess
An Old New England School

CHAPTER XIV

STUDENT LIFE UNDER "UNCLE SAM"

AGAIN I revisit the hills where we sported,
The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought,
The school where, loud warned by the bell, we resorted,
To pore over precepts by pedagogues taught.

IN the occasional contests in Phillips Academy between established authority, personified by Dr. Taylor, and habitual offenders, it must not be presumed that the former was always easily victorious. Full-blooded, mischievous boys frequently became insubordinate, and the Principal was at times forced, in spite of himself, to resort to his last weapon --- expulsion. One of the earliest of the internal disorders, sometimes dignified by the name of "rebellions," which occurred during his régime, broke out in 1846, when a small but aggressive group of men in the Senior class, headed by William Stark, a grandson of the hero of Bennington, undertook to direct affairs in the Academy. Aggrieved by the withholding from them of various honors which they thought they had deserved, Stark, who had hoped to be Valedictorian, and his satellites so annoyed the Principal by covert criticisms and complaints, culminating in an uproarious public meeting, that he finally expelled ten of them only a week before the day set for graduation. Dr. Taylor's drastic action resulted in "fierce excitement" among the students, but no open outbreak ensued, and, with the departure of the culprits, it looked as if trouble had been averted. Stark, however, well supplied with money, had proceeded at once to Troy, New York, where, at his own expense, he attended to the printing of a catalogue of his own, an elaborate affair with a bright enameled cover, containing a list of students in which Stark and his companions were assigned the places to which they considered themselves entitled. In the list of instructors, also, Stark had included himself as "Teacher of Sacred Music." On the morning of the annual exhibition in August, 1846, Stark returned to Andover and succeeded in dexterously substituting his own catalogues for those provided by the authorities; thus, when the guests were comfortably seated in the hall of the Brick Academy, they found in their hands an unexpected treat. To add to the confusion Stark had bribed the band, engaged from Boston for the day, to forget its appointment, and there was no music to be had. During a few tense moments disorder reigned among the audience, and "Uncle Sam," uncertain as to what course to pursue, seemed for once completely unnerved. Eventually he consulted with a few Trustees who happened to be present, and then, mounting to the platform, managed to restore order so that the programme could be carried out.

At the opening of the following fall term the dissatisfaction was by no means allayed. A burlesque poem, The Phillipiad, eight pages long, was circulated among the choicer spirits. This work, which was in irregular verse, and annotated, after the style of The Ancient Mariner, with marginal prose comments in Latin, Greek, German, and French, said little about "Uncle Sam," but assailed the Treasurer, Samuel Fletcher, Esq., and the Trustees. Incidentally it praised highly Lyman Coleman, who had recently been compelled to resign from the English Department, and Abner J. Phipps and William H. Wells, two of the assistants. The poem, which has no merit whatever as verse, began as follows: ---

Know ye the place where the halls of religion
Are engines of plunder for those who bear rule?
Where the changing of money, the sale of the pigeon,
Now sullies the temple, now plunders the school!
Know ye the high hill of Hebrew and Greek,
Where in strange, learnèd accents, the green Yankees speak;
Where wondrous Professors and Doctors frequent,
And wondering youths are from far countries sent;
Where the classical gravel, and consecrate trees,
Are fanned by a tuneful, oracular breeze;
Where the towering piles of ethereal brick,
And the mud-colored commons are clustering thick.

Of Coleman the following lines were written: ---

Aye, Coleman's name falls frequent on the ear,
With queries why he is no longer here;
And execration visits the design
That drove him forth, and brought the quick decline
Of that prosperity his labor reared,
The school to which he ever was endeared.

"Uncle Sam" was not long kept in ignorance of the existence of this satire, and in due season, after a little quiet investigation, the authors of The Phillipiad were requested to withdraw.

In the spring of 1848 a party of malcontents overturned and set on fire an outhouse connected with the Latin dormitories. Most of those concerned in the affair had already incurred suspicion, and the watchful Principal soon expelled ten of their number. In his report for 1855 Dr. Taylor, in mentioning another disorder of a similar kind, added a significant comment: ---

Our vicinity to the city of Lawrence is one of the most fruitful sources of irregularity to which we are exposed. Scarcely an individual has been removed from the school for two or three years past who has not commenced his irregularities by his night visits to that place.

What is commonly known as the "Third Rebellion" occurred in 1867, near the close of Dr. Taylor's career. On a glorious Wednesday morning in May Rufus A. Bullock, now a well-known Boston lawyer, and Simon Obermeyer, his classmate, met another student, who shall be nameless, on their way from chapel. The third fellow, a happy-go-lucky scapegrace full of animal spirits, proposed that they should "cut" the scheduled recitation in geometry, and walk to Haggett's Pond for a boat ride and a swim. When they returned late in the afternoon, they found awaiting them a peremptory summons from "Uncle Sam." They discovered him suffering acute pain from one of his periodic attacks of gout, and consequently in no gentle temper. In addition, he had gradually been getting more and more exasperated over the frequent "cutting" which had been going on during the fine spring weather. Being in no mood to listen to any explanation, he informed the offenders that their relations with Phillips Academy must terminate at once. On the same day, unfortunately, "Archie" Bush, captain of the baseball nine, had stolen off with one of his friends to Boston in order to see a league contest. Bush, who had served as an officer in the Northern army, was a man full-grown, and the school hero of his time. He was a fine fellow, of good habits, whom every one respected and liked; but these virtues had at that moment little weight with the irate Principal, who immediately added Bush and his companion to the list of those expelled.

On the following morning, when the news was spread through the school, the Senior class, indignant at the loss of five of their prominent men, resolved upon a demonstration. After an angry mass meeting upon what is now the Old Campus, twenty-four of the forty-two members, among them some of the ablest scholars in the class, hired thirteen separate carriages and drove to Lawrence, where they attended a circus, had supper at a hotel, and then returned to Andover past Dr. Taylor's house, giving cat-calls for the edification of the infuriated Principal. This exploit was, of course, a genuine rebellion, and "Uncle Sam," after a perfunctory examination, expelled all those implicated in it. Newspapers throughout the East appeared with garbled accounts of the incident, and it created such widespread comment that the Trustees, at a special meeting, thought it wise to pass a vote approving the Principal's action.

The consequences of this "Rebellion" were rather more far-reaching than any one connected with it could have anticipated. The expelled students, without Dr. Taylor's recommendation, found it impossible to enter Yale, and many of them decided to try Harvard. A few, including Bullock, engaged tutors from among the younger instructors at Cambridge; others "bohned" during the summer for the entrance examinations; and in the end nearly all of them managed to satisfy the Harvard requirements. The attitude shown by the Harvard authorities was decidedly irritating to Dr. Taylor, who, in his report for 1868, unburdened himself on the matter to the Trustees: --

The members of the Senior Class who were removed from the Academy were all admitted to college. But with the exception of a single college no one of the class was received till a full and manly apology was made to us for the violation of the authority of the school, and till a paper was furnished by us to the colleges where they applied for admission, giving the facts in the case, and stating that but for the particular act of insubordination, the persons under censure would have received the usual recommendations at the close of the term. The course which these colleges took was wise and salutary.

Harvard College, however, admitted those who applied without any papers of any kind from us. As I considered such a course injurious in its tendency to our school, as well as to others, I sought an interview with President Hill, during our last vacation, for the purpose of learning the facts in the case, so far as he felt at liberty to state them. He treated the matter with great candor and courtesy. He said that there was a difference of opinion among the Faculty themselves, and that they had a sharp discussion in regard to the measures he adopted, --- some of their number contending that the students had been sufficiently punished by their removal from the Academy here. He said also that he ought to have written and learned more about the case; but that his mind was greatly distracted at that time. He added, too, in the end, --- "I do not feel quite satisfied with our position."

The aftermath of this affair lasted some years. "Archie" Bush and some of his athletic friends went to Harvard, where Bush, in his Sophomore year, became captain of the nine. During the three years of his captaincy Harvard won regularly from Yale, a result due largely to his brilliant playing and efficient methods of coaching. Yale men have always attributed their decline in athletics during this period to Bush's expulsion from Andover, for, even after he left Harvard, his system continued to bring victories to his alma mater. His record in college was a distinguished one, not only in sport, but also in scholarship and religious activity. When he died in 1877 in Liverpool, England, while he was on his honeymoon, the New York Evening Post spoke of him as "the most widely known college man in the United States."

Another consequence of the "Rebellion" was that extensive publicity was given to the fact that Phillips Academy did not prepare boys for Harvard; and, henceforth, certain changes in the curriculum were made inevitable. For three decades Dr. Taylor had paid no attention to entrance requirements, teaching pupils in his own effective way and relying on his personal recommendation to carry them into Yale. It was time for a modification of this system. Mr. Bullock puts the matter bluntly: --

It was the beginning of the end of the régime of "Uncle Sam." It was the first big shake-up which speedily led to great changes at Andover, to new methods and new men. I do not by any means assume that this episode was the sole cause of the change, because it was beginning to take place everywhere. The time was ripe for a change, and it would have come anyway, sooner or later, for the old-fashioned type of school and the old-fashioned type of schoolmaster were soon destined to pass away, never to return; but this episode hastened the day for Andover.

It should be added that the expelled boys, by a vote of the Trustees passed April 20, 1903, were reinstated in Phillips Academy, thirty-six years after the "Rebellion" had taken place.

THE PRINCIPAL'S HOUSE, FORMERLY THE SAMARITAN HOUSE,

THE PEASE HOUSE

After the annexation of the Teachers' Seminary in 1842, the daily exercises of the school were held in the Stone Academy, the classic Brick Academy having proved unsatisfactory. "We all know the Stone Academy," once said Dr. McKenzie, "and remember its large room where we met for morning and evening prayers; and above, the twin recitation rooms, and their cruel seats, and the narrow passage way between, ending at the door with the mystic and awful number." This "large room" was "Number 1," on the ground floor, where the boys assembled for religious services. On the left, as one entered at the door near the southwest corner, was a low platform, on which Dr. Taylor's chair was placed. Students as they came in had to face those already seated. In the northeast alcove stood a wheezy organ, around which were stools for the choir. Along the middle aisle were desks for the day scholars, and on either side were rows of hard wooden benches, certainly not designed for physical ease. At the opening of each term there was always an undignified and sometimes violent scramble for the favorite seats. The desks and benches were specimens of ancient carpentry, cut through and through with jackknives, and worn away by the boots of many generations of youth. Here in this hall the boys waited for "Uncle Sam" every morning, and rose ceremoniously when he stepped in after the short walk from his house across the street. When the morning ceremonies were over, there was a grand rush for the exit, Seniors going to the notorious "Number 9," Middllers to "Number 5," and Juniors to "Number 6." Members of the English Department retired to a wooden structure which stood in the rear of the Stone Academy.

The classrooms of the Stone Academy, all of them upstairs, were, with the exception of "Number 9," poorly lighted and wretchedly ventilated, and the boys, "cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd," sat in them, pursuing their work under unhygienic conditions. "Number 9" was Dr. Taylor's peculiar bailiwick, where he was enthroned, flanked by maps of the "antique world" and busts of Homer, Virgil, and other classical worthies. In the summer term, as the days grew oppressive, he would sometimes show mercy, and lead the sweltering pupils through the Elm Arch to the cool first floor of the Brick Academy.

Dr. Taylor's administration was the golden age of the Commons dormitories, when the school life centered around the two rows of what Dr. Bancroft used to call "perpendicular Gothic" and the field which lay between them. These buildings were first painted in 1846, and in 1848 the famous high fence was built in front of the Latin barracks. Many were the regulations by which the occupants were bound, --- at least on paper, but the rules were seldom taken seriously. Ashes, according to special edict, were to be thrown into brick bins in the cellar, not out of the window or merely down the stairs. Wood was to be sawed and split outdoors or in the cellars, not in the rooms or entries, or on the doorsteps. There were careful fire laws, forbidding any one to carry a candle or lamp into any garret or cellar. But no one in Commons felt himself amenable to a penal code. The oil from the student lamps would frequently run over, and then the blazing mass would be hurled viciously through the window to the ground below or smothered in a convenient rug. On one occasion the occupants of a dormitory covered the exterior with strips of newspaper hung from the windows, and then touched them off so that a sudden flash of flame shot into the air. By the time the fire-engine had arrived, the conflagration had died down, and the boys were peacefully poring over their books. The rats and mice which infested the rooms were slain by ingenious devices.

The curious custom of "selling the bell" was then in vogue, by which boys bid for the job of ringing a huge bell every morning at five o'clock in front of each building, until the residents thus rudely awakened to another day of toil saw fit to rise and smite the ringer with missiles chosen promiscuously but usually well adapted to the purpose. The one who offered to do this for the smallest sum was awarded the contract. Every one was aware that the first stroke of the bell was the signal for hostilities; but nevertheless the office was eagerly sought for, especially by adventurous spirits, who often performed the duties for a money consideration purely nominal.

The clan loyalty of the boys led to intermittent combats, sometimes to open warfare, between the Latin and English Commons. The Latin men stuffed the chimneys of their rivals across the Campus and enjoyed a few hours of wild delight, until the English students retaliated effectively by salting the Latin Commons well. In winter weather, after a snowball battle, there was often hardly a bit of window glass in any one of the buildings, and the broken panes, stuffed with discarded articles of wearing apparel, did not add to the architectural beauty of the Commons.

Dr. Taylor was, of course, aware of these crude conditions, and in 1847 spoke vigorously on the subject to the Trustees, pointing out that "the mere presence of a teacher in one of the dormitories would be a sufficient restraint to such as might be disposed to make any disturbance." The Board at once voted that two rooms, one in each row, should be fitted up for the accommodation of one instructor in each department. This step marks the small beginning of the present system of Faculty proctorship. Even after this resolution was passed, however, the policing of the Commons was rarely more than nominal, and the dormitories were frequently the theater of tumultuous disorder, which could be quelled only by the appearance of "Uncle Sam" himself. Not until the Faculty was considerably enlarged could this plan, so indisputably correct in principle, be properly put into operation.

Throughout this period Academic Commons or boarding-houses were kept under various proprietors, food being provided at very low cost. In 1842, as announced in the catalogue, the price was ninety-four cents, in 1843, seventy-six cents a week; in 1849 it had risen to one dollar and thirty-seven cents; in 1857 the "extreme cost of provisions" raised the rate to two dollars; and in war time the boys had to pay two dollars and a half. The Latin Commons boardinghouse, called, for some unknown reason, "Chocolate Hall," was kept for years in the farmhouse formerly located on the corner of Main and Phillips Streets, where Tucker House now stands; the Steward until 1844 was Isaac Farley, who was succeeded by his son, Isaac Alvan Farley. The boarders in 1845 elected one of their number as President, his duty being to carry complaints to the Steward. Milk and eggs were furnished from the farm itself.

It was in connection with this boarding-house that an incident occurred which, apparently quite trivial, led to important consequences. George B. Clark, a student in the class of 1846, became interested in what one of his teachers told him about telescopes, and, when one day the Commons dinner bell broke, he secured the fragments, melted them in a ladle, cast the fluid into a disk, and started to grind it into a reflector. His father, happening to discover him at work, made inquiries, and assisted him in completing the grinding. When the results turned out to be satisfactory, Alvan G. Clark, the father, formed a company for the manufacture of lenses and refractors, and eventually made many large telescopes, including that in the National Observatory and the famous forty-inch Yerkes refractor at the University of Chicago.

The Commons boarding-house was given up in 1849 on the ground that the proprietor could not pay expenses, but was later resumed under a new manager. The old farmhouse was used in 1852 for the Union Club, of which Alexander McKenzie was President and William A. Mowry the Secretary and Caterer. Mr. Mowry purchased the food, and a Miss Gould kept the house and did the cooking for thirty-seven and a half cents a week per head. Dr. McKenzie once described the bill of fare as consisting of "bread and molasses every day, beefsteak from the neighboring tannery once a week and apple pie on Sunday, with once in a while some buckwheat fritters that boys used to use when they wanted to pitch quoits." Other eating-clubs were also formed, one or two of which had a fairly long life. The Eureka Club, started April 23, 1857, had a pompous constitution, with provision for a "reader," whose duty it was to entertain the members with a newspaper or any desired publication for fifteen minutes during supper. The Crescent Club, which flourished for some years, held sumptuous annual banquets, at which the officers made speeches. Possibly the best-known was the Shawsheen Club, which had its headquarters in the old Abbot House on Phillips Street. In 1866 there were three such clubs, board at one being $2.75, and at the other two $3.40, a week. At this date the more luxurious "Boarding-House" was charging between $5 and $5.50. In all these places the boys complained intermittently of the poor quality of the food, and written protests were frequently drawn up in remonstrance. "The eating-clubs," says President Thwing, speaking of the year 1870, "were rather wretched, so wretched as to be objects of horrible remembrance."

Although Dr. Taylor was a strict disciplinarian, he believed in the policy of leaving the eating-clubs almost entirely in the hands of the students. They were also allowed to form other organizations, literary, social, and athletic, and so long as these did not violate any important rule, they were not interfered with. These societies will be discussed in detail in a later chapter. It is interesting that the Principal should have tolerated, in a school paper like the Philomathean Mirror, a freedom of speech regarding himself and his colleagues little short of extraordinary. This frankness, however, became license in the various broadsides issued at the close of the year by the upper classes. In these, "Uncle Sam," the Faculty, citizens of the town, and members of the rival class were often made the subjects of scurrilous attacks; not even the "Fem. Sem." and the "Nunnery"(1) were spared. Of these sheets the earliest one in possession of the Academy is The Phillipian, dated July 28, 1857, which contains a humorous account of a Faculty meeting and some Lines on Uncle, the quality of which may be judged from the following quotation: --

He stands aloft, a great Colossus,
As high, as tall, and ponderous
As that of Rhodes, whose legs stretched o'er
A harbor wide, from shore to shore.
His voice is hoarse, his head is thick.
A giant he in rhetoric;
In Greek an Ajax, and a giant
To all the Roman men defiant.

The Plaindealer, with a motto "Justitia ad Omnes," appeared July 29, 1861, its publisher being "Greeley Horace" and its editor "Professor E. A. Sparks." Its most amusing article is an account of Dr. Taylor's examination of the Middle Class. The motto of The Scalpel, dated July 28, 1863, is "Incido ut Sanem," and its contents include an attack on Andover boarding-houses, a verse satire on tradesmen in the town, and a ribald account of Dr. Taylor's alleged misdeeds and escapades during his trip abroad. On July 26, 1864, was published The Censor, interesting chiefly because of one of its essays which, alluding to the comparison between Dr. Taylor and Dr. Arnold, says: --

How were these illusions dispelled after being in the place for a few days! Where was the kind, sympathizing Arnold, --- where the ready smile, the cheering word, which, from the comparison, we had been led to expect? The distant freezing nod told us the difference. Instead of the genial warmth of the kind-hearted father and friend, we found a bundle of Latin and Greek, --- Kühner's Grammar personified, --- together with a little rhetoric, logic, elocution, etc.

There are also criticisms of the Principal's interference in Philo elections and of "the system of sneaking and prying which is practiced by some of the teachers." The advertisements in this paper are often disgraceful in their tone. The Phoenix, printed July 25, 1865, contains an attack on "Uncle's system of spying" and gives an interesting description of a day at Phillips, with a typical interview between an innocent "cad" and the Principal. A caustic analysis of Dr. Taylor's qualifications as a preceptor says: "He goes on the principle, 'Teach those a good deal who know a good deal; to those who don't know much, pay little attention.'" The Scorpion, which came out July 24, 1866, has a motto, "Resistance to Tyranny is Obedience to God," and includes in its pages a witty skit entitled Avunculus on a Raid and a poem in the meter of Hiawatha, ridiculing all the instructors, especially the notorious "flogging Bridgman."

The "Mock Programmes" sometimes surreptitiously circulated on Exhibition Days belong to the same class of coarse literature. One of the earliest, dated July 27, 1859, is, when viewed superficially, exactly like the standard programmes usually provided for the guests. The order of exercises, however, is sheer burlesque, the rather primitive humor of the authors being displayed at its best (or worst) in the familiar device of taking the initials of various speakers and affixing to them nonsensical adjectives. Thus T. A. Emerson is transformed into "T-raveling A-pe" Emerson, and G. H. is metamorphosed into "G-iddy H-eaded." The mirth excited by these feeble attempts at cleverness could never have been hilarious. The "Mock Programme" produced by the Middlers in 1864 announced the "Only Appearance of Sam Taylor's Educated Gorillas," and opened the exercises with a "Hog-Latin Salutatory, by J-ust A-bout D-runk Hughes." In 1866 the Middlers had on their title-page, "Order of Exercises at the Exhibition of the Senior Class of Phillips Insane Asylum." Several other such "Mock Programmes" are in existence, but they vary only in minor details from those already mentioned.

One celebration of a picturesque kind was the "Burning of Kühner" held by departing Seniors on the Monday evening before the Exhibition. It was preceded usually by a class supper at the Mansion House, in the course of which original songs, with hits on the teachers, were sung. In 1860 the exercises closed with smoking the "Pipe of Peace," which was then handed on to a committee of the class of 1861. Another feature of the evening was a band concert. After the banquet was over, a procession, headed by the band, formed in the outskirts of the town, sometimes in Frye Village, sometimes nearer, in Love Lane, and, after parading down Main Street and up School Street, with a halt for a cheer at the "Fem. Sem.," broke ranks in front of "Old Brick." Here a gloomy requiem was chanted, an oration was delivered, and then a fire was lighted, around which the Seniors danced, throwing their textbooks into the flames and singing an appropriate dirge. Many of the songs written for these occasions show decided ability. Unfortunately, the celebration could not be confined always to students alone, but was attended by townspeople, some alumni, and not a few disreputable characters from adjacent cities. "Uncle Sam" himself, it is said, often watched the proceedings from a convenient distance. One particularly boisterous demonstration was attended by interesting results, as described by Mr. Noah H. Swayne, of the class of 1866: --

Just about the time of graduation some members of the class of '66 burned publicly Kühner's Grammar .... I was not present at the celebration, but after entering Yale, I was called upon, as were the other members of my class from Andover, for letters from Dr. Taylor. We none of us had received any, and were therefore notified that we were not eligible for matriculation. The matter ran on, we attending our regular recitations and acting as members of the class of 1870 at Yale. One member of the class wrote to Dr. Taylor to know why we did not receive our letters. A characteristic letter was received from Dr. Taylor, referring to the conduct of the class of '66 and the disorderly action on the night when the grammar was burned, and informing us that every member of our class must sign an apology before he would issue the necessary papers for us to be matriculated. We accordingly held a meeting, and the secretary wrote what we thought a sufficiently abject apology, signed it, and forwarded it to Dr. Taylor. He wrote back that it was no apology at all, and returned it. We then applied to Professor Thatcher for the form of an apology, which he wrote for us. We signed this and forwarded it to Dr. Taylor, only to receive the information that, as an apology, it was very much worse, very much weaker, and more unsatisfactory than the prior paper. We were up a tree then. We did not know what to do until the happy inspiration came to us of attaching our names to a blank paper, which was forwarded to Dr. Taylor and by him accepted. The necessary papers were forwarded to the college authorities, followed by matriculation. I understand that Dr. Taylor read before the students in Andover at morning prayers a long and humble apology, but none of us ever saw it.

After 1866 the picturesque spectacle became a thing of the past, like the Eton "Montem," and in its place a tame band concert was held for the edification of Exhibition guests.

There can be no doubt that "Uncle Sam" was compelled through circumstances to ignore many forms of student rascality. Outside the classroom supervision could not be comprehensive. Campus bonfires were lighted on Hallowe'en and Thanksgiving Eve, and there were many night excursions to neighboring cities, like Lawrence, Lowell, and Haverhill. There was no "eight-o'clock rule," and, if there had been, it could not have been enforced. Mr. John B. D. Cogswell, of the class of 1846, used to tell gleefully of a schoolboy adventure, when he and three companions determined on Christmas Day to escape to Boston:---

Infinite precaution being taken to conceal the route of our departure, we drove to Boston in high spirits, went to the Howard Athenaeum (then the home of the "legitimate drama") in the evening, ate an oyster supper with "Tom and Jerry" at Brigham's Concert Hall, and at midnight called for our team and started for Andover; but the fun was now over. A snow-storm came on, followed by rain and a thaw. We lost our way in the darkness, and at last one of us, climbing a guide-post, discovered that we were midway between Salem and Andover, and headed for Salem. We retraced our course, and, just as day was dawning, reentered Andover by the old Brick Academy, and, speedily dis-engaging ourselves from the carriage, trotted through the slush to our rooms and concealment, now pretty tired of the frolic, and beginning to feel mortal terrors lest the all-seeing eye of "Uncle Sam" should fall upon us, or our escapade should be reported to him by some of the "spies," in whose existence we profoundly believed. For it was said that "Uncle Sam" encouraged the Jesuit system of delation. Stolen, fearful joys! Whatever punishments we deserved, we at all events escaped them.

Similar evasions of rules took place, of course, again and again among the wealthier and more daring boys, who were willing to risk expulsion for the sake of one night's dissipation. Such students, however, were not representative of the school under Dr. Taylor.

Much of the disorder and mischief of this period may be attributed to the lack of organized athletics, which to-day give robust boys a legitimate vent for pent-up energy. In the spring and summer the more muscular swam in Pomp's or in the Shawsheen, and sometimes tried their skill at the rude game of "rounders," out of which, about 1860, baseball was beginning to evolve. In the winter there was coasting on huge "double-runners" down School and Phillips Streets, interrupted periodically by prohibitions from the "town fathers." The Commons pupils probably found exercise enough in sweeping their rooms, carrying away ashes, and bringing pails of water from the well. But there were no compulsory sports, and a boy physically indolent might remain at Phillips Academy for three or four years without taking part in an outdoor game.

One passable substitute for a football eleven was a fire brigade. The Trustees, for the protection of school property, had purchased and repaired a feeble secondhand fire-engine, which was dragged out on any conceivable pretext, "Uncle Sam" being the chief in charge. With a conflagration of any size this apparatus was ludicrously ineffective, but in extinguishing smaller blazes the company performed excellent service. In 1851, as the Honorable John Winslow used to tell the story, one of the English Commons caught fire, and the brigade, under Dr. Taylor's orders, undertook to operate the engine, but wholly without success. Winslow then told "Uncle Sam" that he had once managed a similar machine, and that, if everybody would man the brakes and obey instructions, all would go well; thereupon the stalwart Principal fell back with the rank and file, and Winslow conducted further proceedings. In the end the dormitory was destroyed, but the adjoining buildings were saved.

Once in the late autumn, when the grass was long and dry, an irrepressible youngster set fire to it in front of the Latin Commons, on the land back of the Academy farmhouse; the blaze spread, and some of the farm employees tried to check it. The boys across the road rather enjoyed the fun, and did not go to the assistance of the fire brigade --- with the exception of the guilty underclassman who had started the excitement and who was afraid that the flames might cause some damage. The next morning after prayers "Uncle Sam" proceeded to reprimand the entire school severely for not having been of more aid, and then added, "But there was one noble individual who helped to put out the fire." This sentence he uttered in his most impressive, sub-bass manner. At this the boys, acquainted with the truth, burst into ear-splitting laughter, much to the Principal's astonishment and wrath; and he was never able to discover the cause of this sudden merriment.

The Wednesday afternoon declamations, instituted by Principal Adams, were continued under Dr. Taylor, the oratory being of the florid, melodramatic variety so common at that time in Congress. The walls of the Brick Academy echoed and reëchoed with The Burial of Moses, Hohenlinden, Spartacus to the Gladiators (popular because it was written by Elijah Kellogg in 1843 when be was a student in the Seminary), and other rousing old-time classics. Small sums were appropriated each year for instruction in public speaking, which, prior to the arrival of Professor Churchill in 1866, was usually given in a desultory way by some impecunious "theologue." At the Wednesday afternoon performances "Uncle Sam" was a relentless critic, who did his best with withering irony or frank ridicule to eradicate affectation. "You go to the very extreme," he would say; "you should use the 'happy medium." Once a tall, green rustic delivered an oration with much violent gesticulation, and finally, at the words, "and in the dust sat down," took the passage literally, and sat down on the stage. When the would-be Webster had returned to his seat, Dr. Taylor said, "Jennison, there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous, and you have taken it; you are excused from the room."

The annual Exhibitions, corresponding to the present Commencement, commonly took place in late July or early August, at the very hottest time of the Andover year. In the morning were held the oral examinations conducted by the Principal in the presence of a committee of the Trustees. It seemed to little Elizabeth Stuart Phelps as if everybody at an Exhibition was afraid of the Trustees, and she cherished a devout but hidden antagonism towards them. In the afternoon came the "speaking," which, until 1865, took place in the upper story of "Old Brick." Admission was by ticket, but the narrow stairway was packed with people long before the doors were opened, and the ball was seldom large enough for the crowd. At one end of the room was a platform, to which orators ascended in unique fashion by means of a ladder from the outside of the building. When General Nathaniel P. Banks was Governor, he was a guest at an Exhibition, and, being obliged to leave early, caused much amusement by making his exit on the boys' ladder --- not by crawling backwards, but face foremost, as in going downstairs. The programmes on these occasions were generally of great length. In 1852 there were twenty-five separate numbers, including a Greek dialogue, an English dialogue, two discussions (one on The Comparative Facilities for Doing Good and Evil), and several English, Latin, and Greek orations, the list closing with an original ode by Miss Hannah F. Gould, the Newburyport poetess. The Exhibition of 1863 had also twenty-five "pieces," orations, colloquies, and dialogues, beginning with a Latin Salutatory and closing with an "English Oration, with the Valedictory."

The later date of the Exhibitions as compared with that of Commencement to-day is explained by the division of the school year. In 1838 the Trustees voted "that the summer vacation in the Classical Department commence on the second Wednesday in August." In 1843 this was moved back to the first Wednesday in August. In 1854, with a new arrangement, the Academy closed on the last Wednesday in July, there being three vacations during the year: one of five weeks, following the Exhibition; one of three weeks, after the first Wednesday before Thanksgiving; one of three weeks, after the last Wednesday of March. Until Dr. Taylor's death, school, according to the Puritan custom, was kept on Christmas Day, that festival being considered to be a "Papist feast," associated with masques and revelry, dancing and the wassail bowl, and such secular delights as those described in Irving's Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. A complete calendar was, in 1863, included in the catalogue; according to that schedule, the Academy year was to begin September 2 and to conclude July 26, with vacations aggregating eleven weeks. In 1866 a distinct change was made by pushing back the Exhibition to July 2, and lengthening the summer recess to eight weeks. When in 1871 the summer vacation period was extended to eleven weeks, with the Exhibition on June 18, the arrangement corresponded closely to that in use to-day.

When Daniel Webster came to Andover in 1840 to address the Whigs, the boys had a huge dinner and "row-de-dow." One among the hero-worshipers noticed and remembered that" the God-like spoke most of the time with his hands in his breeches pockets."

This was not the only great event that occurred in Dr. Taylor's régime. The fiftieth anniversary of Phillips Academy had been passed in 1828 without a word of comment; not so, however, with the Seminary semicentennial, which was observed on August 4 and 5, 1858. A huge tent was raised on the Training Field in front of the Mansion House; there, on the second day, a dinner was held, after which came almost innumerable addresses, which were interrupted, perhaps providentially, by a most dramatic incident. In the midst of the flow of oratory, when President Wayland, of Brown, was delivering a eulogy on Professor Stuart, the news came unexpectedly of the successful laying of the Atlantic cable. President Wayland was allowed to finish, but, as soon as his last word was spoken, the great throng arose to their feet as one man; dignified clergymen cheered, clapped, pounded on tables, and waved their hats; the tumult for a few minutes resembled that of a political convention. Man after man rushed to the platform to utter his word of prayer or thanksgiving, until there were nearly as many speakers as auditors. And then the vast assemblage joined spontaneously in the doxology, --

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Another memorable event was the fall of the Pemberton Mill in the city of Lawrence in 1860. On January 10 the roof and walls of this huge structure collapsed, burying seven hundred and fifty men and women, of whom nearly a hundred were killed. The débris took fire from an overturned lantern, and a terrible conflagration followed. Some of the Academy boys who ran to the scene still remember how the girls imprisoned in the flames sang "Shall we gather at the river?" as death came nearer and nearer.

The Civil War had, of course, no small effect on Phillips Academy. In 1862 Dr. Taylor reported:---

The general state of the country is not as favorable for study as in more quiet times; greater effort on the part of the teachers is required to secure the usual amount of study; yet it is believed that good progress has been made during the year, by the great majority of the members of the school.

In the conflict itself the Principal felt, apparently, little interest, for he served on none of the numerous town committees formed to rouse enthusiasm, and he, so far as can be ascertained, made no speeches at public gatherings, as nearly all the Seminary professors did. His indifference, however, was not shared by Phillips men, who, undergraduates and alumni, enlisted to the number of over six hundred in the two armies. Within a few weeks after the declaration of war companies were organized in the Academy and in the Seminary, the Academy boys calling themselves the "Ellsworth Guards." For this company, captained by John Hanson Thomson, of the class of 1861, the girls of Abbot Academy made uniforms, consisting of gray caps and suits of blue trimmed with red. In all the patriotic demonstration in the town the "Guards" took a prominent part. On May 19, 1861, the boys attended Professor Stowe's sermon before the Andover Light Infantry. On June 4 a large flag was raised over the Seminary Chapel, with appropriate exercises, including a prayer by Professor Park, a presentation address by Professor Phelps, an oration by Professor Stowe, and the singing of an original "Banner Song," written for the occasion by Mrs. Stowe. The Academy company created no small sensation as, wearing their picturesque new uniforms, they marched across the Campus to the Chapel. On the following day, when a flag was raised over the Mansion House by its proprietor, Mr. Bodwell, the "Guards" were again present, and carried on an exhibition drill on the Training-Field. On June 5, in front of the South Church, the students of Phillips Academy presented to the Andover Light Infantry a beautiful white silk banner, with the state arms on one side and a pine tree, with an inscription, on the other. Two days later the "Ellsworth Guards" escorted the Light Infantry to the railroad station, where they set out for Fort Warren.

When the news of the surrender of Vicksburg reached Andover on Tuesday, July 7, 1863, bells were rung and a huge bonfire was kindled on the Campus. On July 21, 1864, the students, headed by their teachers, met at the station those Andover soldiers whose term of service had expired, and drew them in barges to the Town Hall. The election of that fall aroused great interest, and, when the results were known, a Philo poet burst into song: ---

Come all to-night, hurrah for the right!
   For Lincoln has carried the day;
And Philo's men, with their voice and pen,
   Are ready his will to obey.

The spirit of Andover Hill during this critical period is well portrayed in one of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps's best stories, The Oath of Allegiance.

Of the recruits from Andover so many gained distinction that it would be showing unjust discrimination to mention names. Professor Stowe's son, Frederick E. Stowe, and Dr. Taylor's son, George H. Taylor, both served honorably in the Northern ranks. One dramatic death was that of Samuel Hopkins Thompson, of the class of 1862, who enlisted within two weeks after graduation, was elected a lieutenant, and was killed at Antietam, October 2, 1862, while leading his troops to the charge with the words, "Form on me, boys, form on me." A portrait of this boy hero, hardly over twenty years old when he died, was presented to Phillips Academy in 1878.

One interesting incident happened not long after the war, when, one morning after chapel, "Uncle Sam," adjusting his spectacles, read the following communication: --

It gives me pleasure to herewith enclose my check for $500 for the education of a negro in Phillips Academy.

(Signed) BENJAMIN F. BUTLER,
             Lowell, Massachusetts.

The announcement was received with some obsequious applause, but with more shuffling of feet in disapproval, for up to this time no negro had attended the school and General Butler was not a popular character in Andover.

Some of the best pictures of Academy life under "Uncle Sam" come from old letters. One youngster, writing in 1840, tells of boarding in Commons. The boys there had a field set apart for their own use, in which they grew vegetables for the table. The work in this field was not pleasant, and aroused the wrath of the youthful correspondent: --

But the greatest trouble is, we have to earn our bread and then pay for it. Yesterday they started about twenty of us out in the field after dinner to pulling weeds among the potatoes. They made us work there about an hour, when it was time for me to recite, and I had no lesson in consequence. But that was n't all; this afternoon I, with about half a dozen others, was told to go to work pulling weeds again. The reason of this was, they said, that we did not work well enough yesterday, and must do some more to-day and make up. I worked about fifteen minutes, and then pulled up stakes and off, telling the "boss" they had put over us that, if they wanted any more weeds pulled that afternoon, they might take them to some other market. A number of others followed my example, and the rest worked three-quarters of an hour longer. But this pulling weeds from among potatoes don't agree with me at all.

It is well, also, to get another point of view. The stories which graduates remember best are those of student pranks and riots, of extraordinary situations and unusual events. Most of the pupils pursued the "even tenor of their way," doing their daily tasks with regularity and never coming into contact with the law. What some of the poorer boys had to go through is shown by a letter written on October 6, 1847, by John B. Smith, of the class of 1850, to his brother: --

My work and study hours are something as follows: rise in the morning at about 5.30 o'clock, build two fires (probably more when it is colder), work around the barn, such as milk one cow, take care of the horses, and saw wood until 7.30, when I eat my breakfast; then, if there is anything in particular to do, if a man has stopped here over night, he usually starts away about this time, I put his horse in, etc.; if not, I prepare for school and look over my lesson, if I have time, till 8.30, when I attend prayers in the Academy. My recitations commence at 9 o'clock, continue till 10.30, then go to my room and study till 12 o'clock, chore around till about 1 o'clock. Afternoon recitations, 1.30 to 3, study till 4.30, prayers at the Academy till 5, work till dark, supper. I study some in the evening and read some.

I joined a society this term called the Philomathean, by the payment of 50 cents. I have as many books as I want from the Library belonging to this society. I have only one pair of woolen pants fit to wear. I shall have to wear thick pants all the time now, but I will try to make these do till I go home again.

A student with such a daily schedule to confront was not likely to have surplus energy to waste when evening arrived, nor was there any danger of his coming into conflict with school discipline.

Although no one of Dr. Taylor's students became so widely known as Holmes or Morse, a large number gained distinction. The one who did most for Phillips Academy was Melville Cox Day (1839-1913), of the class of 1858, who, under Dr. Bancroft and Dr. Stearns, was the school's most liberal benefactor. With him must be named his intimate friend and classmate, John Phelps Taylor (1841-1915), who was chiefly instrumental in arousing Mr. Day's interest in the modern Phillips Academy and who himself made generous gifts to the institution. Among the generals who served in the Northern army were several Andover men: David B. Birney (1825-64), Charles P. Mattocks (1840-1910), Oliver H. Payne (1841-), William F. Bartlett (1840-76), and William Cogswell (1838-95). The list of prominent educators is very long: Franklin Carter (1837-), President of Williams; Charles F. Thwing (1853-), President of Western Reserve; William T. Harris (1835-1909), United States Commissioner of Education; Albert C. Perkins (1833-96), Principal of the Phillips Exeter Academy; Louis B. Frissell (1851-), Principal of Hampton Institute; Joseph Ward (1838-89), President of Yankton College; Henry P. Wright (1839-), Dean of Yale; Joseph H. Neesima (1843-91), President of Doshisha College, Japan; Augustine M. Gay (1827-76), Head Master of Boston Latin School; George Washburn (1833-1915), President of Robert College, Constantinople; William A. Packard (1830-1909), Professor at Dartmouth and Princeton; Arthur M. Wheeler (1836-), Professor at Yale; and William A. Mowry (1829-), editor and author of many educational books. Among the judges are Robert R. Bishop (1834-1909), of the Massachusetts Superior Court; Charles Doe (1830-96), Chief Justice of the New Hampshire Supreme Court; John W. Bacon (1818-88), of the Massachusetts Superior Court; and John A. Aiken (1850-), Chief Justice of that court. Among the authors, of less or greater note, are Frederick W. Loring (1846-71); Arthur S. Hardy (1847-), whose But Yet a Woman is still famous; George H. Derby (1823-61), who as "Squibob" and "John Phoenix" was one of the best-known humorists of his time; Joseph H. Gilmore (1834-), who wrote the hymn, "He leadeth me"; John Albee (1833-1915), the New Hampshire bard; Robert C. Winthrop (1834-1905), the historian; and Nathan Haskell Dole (1852-) and George Herbert Palmer (1839-), both happily still among the living. William Hayes Ward (1835-1916), editor of the Independent, and Talcott Williams (1849-), of the Columbia School of Journalism, sat under Dr. Taylor, as did also Roswell W. Smith (189-92), founder of the Century Company, and Joseph Cook (1838-1901), the eminent lecturer. Among the representatives of science are Henry A. Rowland (1848-1901), the physicist; Othniel C. Marsh (1831-99), the paleontologist; James B. Hammond (1839-1913), inventor of the typewriter; George B. Clark (187-1901), builder of telescopes and reflectors; Ralph Emerson (1831-1914), maker of agricultural implements; Moses G. Farmer (180-93), and William L. B. Jenney (1832-1907). Richard H. Stearns (1824-1909) and Eben D. Jordan (182-95) founded great stores in Boston. Many distinguished themselves in political life: Daniel H. Chamberlain (1835-1907), Governor of South Carolina; William Wallace Crapo (1830-), member of Congress; William E. Dorsheimer (1832-88), Lieutenant-Governor of New York; Charles P. Taft (1843-), member of Congress; Horace Fairbanks (1820-88), Governor of Vermont; Frederick Smyth (1819-99), Governor of New Hampshire; Francis Wayland (1826-1904), Lieutenant-Governor of Connecticut and Dean of the Yale Law School; and Walker Blaine (1855-90), the diplomat. Louis K. Harlow (1850-1913), the artist, and Samuel Isham (1855-1914), the historian of art, were Andover men. In the church, too, others may be named: Charles C. Grafton (1830-1912), Bishop of Wisconsin; Cortlandt Whitehead (1842-), Bishop of Pittsburgh; William W. Leonard (1846-); Leander T. Chamberlain (1837-1913), the famous preacher; and Newman Smyth (1843-). In other fields, also, Andover graduates won fame: Matthew C. D. Borden (1842-1912), the manufacturer, who gave a large sum for the building of the Borden Gymnasium; Frederick Law Olmsted (1822-1903), the landscape architect; Thomas Doane (1821-97), Chief Engineer of the Hoosac Tunnel; Edwin Stewart (1837-), RearAdmiral of the United States Navy; and John Hyde DeForest (1844-1911), the missionary, who was decorated by the Mikado of Japan.

The men who attended Phillips Academy under Dr. Taylor look back upon their school days with mingled emotions. They have not forgotten the overpowering personality of "Uncle Sam," his rigid discipline and his stern demeanor in the classroom. Many of them recall with a shudder certain rough experiences in the old Commons, or in the none too seductive eating-clubs. A few, unfortunately, still cherish a dislike for the school and all for which it stood; but the wiser and more tolerant, looking through the proper perspective, realize that Phillips Academy, with all its faults and virtues, was then fairly representative of some phases of American education at that period.

 

CHAPTER XV

THE SCHOOL AND THE HILL IN THE MID-CENTURY

Men perish; institutions remain.

To those especially interested in the administration and financial control of Phillips Academy the years from 1840 to 1870 presented many perplexing problems. Not the least of these was the question of readjustment after the union with the Teachers' Seminary in 1842. Evidently some trouble had been anticipated, for Dr. Taylor, in his report for 1843, said with some complacency: --

No collisions or difficulties of any kind have arisen between the members of the two departments. They board together in Commons, and meet together for morning and evening prayers, without any distinction.

The classical students, it is true, treated their English fellows with some superciliousness, but this attitude seems seldom to have been resented and the peace was never broken. By 1847 the English pupils had grown to outnumber those on the classical side, and continued to do so until 1852; then the preponderance returned to the Classical Department, where it has ever since remained.

The two departments, as a matter of fact, continued to be practically distinct until Dr. Bancroft's administration. Dr. Taylor held the title of Principal and attended to all matters of discipline, but he had no interest in a scheme of education which discarded Latin and Greek. The teacher in charge of the English Department could, if he possessed ability, make himself almost independent. Until 1866 the graduating class was composed only of classical pupils. No one but an occasional prodigy ever entered college from the English Department, simply because the instruction offered there did not qualify young men for admission. Scholars in the English Department were not divided formally into classes, but were permitted to choose between "Common Branches" and "Higher Branches"; and the courses offered varied considerably from year to year.

The instructors in the English Department, however, were men of much more than average talent. William Harvey Wells, who, after the union in 1842, continued as Head of the English Department, gained great popularity with the students through his affability, which was strikingly contrasted with Dr. Taylor's austerity. "He encouraged intimacy, and responded with advice and sympathy," says the Honorable W. W. Crapo, one of his pupils in 1844. His resignation, which was presented in 1847, was directly due to a disagreement which he had with "Uncle Sam." Mr. Wells was followed in office by James Stewart Eaton(1) (1816-65), who remained in charge of the English Department for eighteen years. He was a gentleman of scholarly tastes and high intellectual ideals, who, with little assistance from Dr. Taylor, did his best, in the face of many annoyances, to maintain a creditable standard of work. That he was obliged to be extraordinarily busy is indicated by a paragraph in the first of his annual reports to the Trustees, dated August 1, 1848: --

I have daily attended to from eight to ten recitations in the following branches; viz., Geography, Eng. Grammar with an analysis of the poets, Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry, Mensuration, Surveying, Natural Philosophy, Astronomy, Bookkeeping by Double Entry, Reading, and Spelling.

At the end of his fifth, tenth, and fifteenth years he made elaborate surveys of the developments which had taken place under his jurisdiction. While Dr. Taylor was abroad in 1856, Mr. Eaton was appointed Acting Principal, and performed his duties most acceptably. It is worth noting that Mr. Eaton, always an overworked man, never received over $1200 a year.

At Mr. Eaton's death William Blair Graves(2) (1834-1915) was invited to fill the vacant position, with the tacit understanding that he was to be allowed to carry out some of the reforms for which Mr. Eaton had pleaded in vain. Mr. Graves, who was full of progressive ideas, was assisted in his plans by an unexpected stroke of good fortune. In the early summer of 1865, as the procession, headed by the band, was marching to the Mansion House to escort Trustees and guests to the Exhibition Hall, George Peabody, the banker and philanthropist, some of whose relatives had graduated from the Academy, said to Treasurer John L. Taylor, "What do you need most now for the school?" "A teacher of mathematics," was the reply. "What will it cost?" "About $25,000." "I will take care of it," said Mr. Peabody; and he did. Some correspondence between him and the Trustees ended in the public announcement on July 23, 1866, that he had given $25,000 for the establishment of a chair of mathematics and the natural sciences. Mr. Graves was soon after appointed the first Peabody Instructor.

The part played by Mr. Graves in reorganizing the English Department and moulding it into a scientific school preparing for college has never been fully recognized. He removed from the catalogue the statement that "special attention is given to those who are qualifying themselves to be teachers"; he framed and published a graded course of study, covering three full years; and be induced the Trustees, not only to award diplomas to graduates from his department, but also to permit its scholars to participate in the exercises at the annual Exhibition. Furthermore, he revised the antiquated curriculum by eliminating many of the subjects, like scientific agriculture and Paley's Natural Theology, which improved theories in education had been forcing teachers to discard. In general what Mr. Graves did was to bring the English Department up to date, by carefully pruning and modifying the course of study and by infusing into it a spirit of energy and enthusiasm. In four years be accomplished much; but his interest in more advanced work led him in 1870 to accept a position in Marietta College. Two months later William Gleason Goldsmith(3) (1832-1910) received an appointment as Peabody Instructor.

The teachers on the classical side were in many cases men who later achieved success in other schools or professions.(4) It was obviously impossible, however, with the small salaries which the Trustees were able to offer, to keep good instructors for any length of time. Those who were really ambitious saw that there was no future ahead in Phillips Academy, and quickly secured better positions elsewhere. In 1854 Dr. Taylor wrote: --

It has been my impression for several years past that the interests of the Academy suffer from a too frequent change of teachers. Those remaining but one or two years only get well prepared to teach by the time they leave.

In his report for 1867 he pointed out that the situation was becoming very serious: --

I regret to be obliged to repeat what was contained in my report of last year, --- that the Academy suffers from so frequent a change of teachers. One of our teachers left at the close of the autumn term on account of an inadequate salary; and his place has been supplied since by three different teachers. Most of these supplies have been from the Theological Seminary, the persons employed hearing a single recitation in the morning and in the afternoon. While we have been fortunate in obtaining good men, and while the character of the instruction has been well sustained, --- much better than we could have expected with so great a variety of teachers, --- these changes are not favorable to the best interests of the school. So far as the changes are attributable to a deficiency in the salaries of the teachers, it is a question, as it seems to me, for the Board to consider still further. By a vote of the Board we are allowed to offer a salary of $800 a year for a new teacher. This sum was recently offered to one of our former scholars, who graduates the present year; but another more lucrative position was offered him, and in consequence we failed to secure him. The place was then offered to another of our former scholars, and the prospect of obtaining him is quite doubtful, on the same ground. It is becoming pretty evident that we cannot get the best class of teachers from our colleges for the salary which the Trustees propose.

In the period from 1837 to 1868 no fewer than forty-seven instructors were connected with Phillips Academy, of whom many --- like John Phelps Taylor, for instance---were "theologues," who in the nature of the case could feel no very vital interest in the hour or two of instruction which they gave each day.

Meanwhile the necessity of having a larger number of teachers was repeatedly brought to the attention of the Trustees. In 1865 the assistants --- James S. Eaton, Bridgman, Barrows, and Kimball --- sent to the Board a signed communication in which they complained that they were teaching six and one half hours a day and that this labor was too severe. Little relief, however, was afforded them, for the Trustees, with the revenues of the institution never adequate to its expenditures, were obliged to harp continually on economy. Abner J. Phipps, one of the ablest of the assistants, sent in his resignation in 1847 because, after nine years of fidelity to the school, he was not given a "living wage." Alumni of this period speak disdainfully of the poor instruction which they received in the lower classes, as compared with the fine training which as Seniors, they gained from Dr. Taylor. The one brilliant assistant teacher of Dr. Taylor's administration was Peter Smith Byers (5) (1827-56), who remained in Phillips Academy just two years.

The truth is that the resources and equipment of the school were not keeping pace with the rapid increase in numbers. From 1827 until 1865 Phillips Academy received no gift of any importance except the Students' Educational Fund started by the class of 1854. The only possible method of adding to the income was to raise the tuition charges. The rate, which, in 1838, had been $6 a term, was increased in 1851 to $7, in 1857 to $8, in 1864 to $10, and in 1866 to $15. Tuition in the English Department, which was fixed in 1842 on the scale of forty cents a week for "Common Branches" and fifty cents for "higher Branches," was changed in 1857 to a flat charge of $7 for the fall term and $8 for the winter and spring terms. In 1869 the Classical and English Departments were put on an equal basis by the establishment of a fee of $15 a term for each registered student. But even this addition to the revenue was insufficient to meet the needs of an expanding institution. New buildings for recitation and dormitory purposes were essential, but there was no one to provide them, and the school continued to suffer under a handicap. When the last nail was driven into the Commons dormitories, work for carpenters and masons on Andover Hill, so far as Phillips Academy was concerned, practically ceased for twenty years.

The Stone Academy had always looked as if it might stand until the last trump; but it was not proof against fire, and, on the evening of December 21, 1864, it was completely ruined by a disastrous conflagration. There was some reason at the time to suspect that the blaze had been set by an expelled student who was seeking a contemptible revenge, but the necessary evidence was never forthcoming. The Trustees promptly voted that a new Academy Hall should be erected, and at a meeting of the alumni held at Commencement in 1865 a building fund was started, which amounted finally to $21,543. While the construction was going on, recitations were held in "Old Brick." The new Main Building was dedicated on February 7, 1866, with a large gathering of graduates present, this being the first celebration of this kind ever held entirely under the auspices of Academy alumni. The programme included a long list of speeches, with the principal address by the Honorable Philip H. Sears on Classical Studies as a Part of Academic Education. On the following day school exercises were begun in the new building, which has been used for that purpose almost continuously ever since. Architecturally, the essential ugliness of the building was only accentuated by attempts at ornamentation. It was, however, both comfortable and commodious, and its large assembly hall on the third floor and its recitation rooms and offices were ample at that date for the demands of the school. In its exterior it has twice been considerably remodeled, so that it is to-day rather more in harmony with the other structures on Andover Hill.

BRECHIN HALL

THE DOUBLE BRICK HOUSE

Phillips Academy was to have no other new buildings under Dr. Taylor's administration. During the summer and autumn of 1865, however, excavation was being carried on for Brechin Hall, the Library of Andover Theological Seminary, which was given by John Smith(6) (1796-1886), John Dove(7) (1799-1876), and Peter Smith(8) (1802-80), and named, at their request, after their boyhood home in Brechin, Forfarshire, Scotland. On April 22, 1864, each of these gentlemen bonded himself to give $10,000, and the total amount of $30,000 was duly paid to the Trustees in 1865 in installments of $5000 each. When it was found that the cost would exceed $40,000, the same three men, on July 24, 1866, contributed an additional $30,000, in equal shares, the unexpended balance of which was used to form the "Smith and Dove Library Fund." The building was opened by the Seminary in 1866 and used for library purposes until 1908, when it was included in the property purchased by the Academy Trustees.

At the time of his formal election as Principal in 1838 Samuel H. Taylor was voted a salary of $1200; this was not increased until 1855, when it was raised to $1500. In 1864, in accordance with a complete readjustment of salaries, Taylor was to receive $2000; the Treasurer, $1800; Eaton, $1200; and the three assistants $1200, $800, and $800 respectively. In 1866 it was decided to allow Mr. Graves $1200 a year, and it was further agreed that no other new teacher should receive over $800 for his first year. Dr. Taylor's salary was eventually fixed at $2500. The Senior class during the early years of his administration made it a regular practice to present the Principal, at their graduation, with either $100 in gold or some article costing that amount. In 1860, however, the Trustees, who saw that contributions to this fund were burdensome to some poorer members of the class, passed a resolution disapproving the custom, and it was gradually abandoned. Other teachers, also, were generously remembered. When the popular Peter Smith Byers left Phillips Academy, his class gave him three engravings and books to the value, it is stated, of $692.

The inevitable changes in the personnel of the Board of Trustees had little effect upon its policy. After the resignation of Judge Hubbard as President in 1843, the Honorable Samuel T. Armstrong, already a Trustee, was chosen to succeed him. At this date not a single member of any branch of the Phillips family remained on the Board, and only two members, Dr. Daniel Dana and 'Squire Farrar, had ever been friends of Judge Phillips. Dr. Dana in 1856 sent in an indignant letter of resignation, implying that the Board was violating the terms of its trust by allowing heretical opinions to be taught in the Seminary. 'Squire Farrar, although be resigned as Treasurer in 1840 and as Trustee in 1846, was still a quaint figure on the Andover streets. People now living can recall his odd dress and gentle spiritual expression, his hair, silvery white, hanging down over his ears, and his bent form moving slowly about the Campus, pausing now and then near a building which be had himself designed or some tree which he had planted half a century before. He died in 1864, in his ninety-second year, having outlived all the men of his generation. In his office as Treasurer he was succeeded by Samuel Fletcher(9) (1785-1858).

On March 26, 1850, Mr. Armstrong died, and the Trustees, after no small amount of persuasion, induced Dr. Justin Edwards to accept the position of President. Dr. Edwards, however, died in 1853, and John Aiken(10) (1797-1867), a Lowell manufacturer living in Andover, was chosen in his place. Of Mr. Aiken, who was an unusually sagacious business man, John L. Taylor once spoke as follows: --

For every important discussion in the sessions of the Board he was prepared as but few of its members could be, so that for many years no man can be said to have done so much as he towards determining its whole policy and action.

President Franklin Pierce, who was Mr. Aiken's brother-in-law, used often to be his guest in Andover, and the two distinguished men excited much attention as they walked together about the Hill. When Mr. Aiken resigned the Presidency in 1857, he was followed in office by the Honorable William J. Hubbard(11) (1802-64), of Boston. At his death in 1864 the Reverend Seth Sweetser(12) (1807-78) of Worcester, who had sat on the Board since 1850, was elected President, and held the position until 1878.

The first paid Treasurer of the Board, Mr. Daniel Noyes (1792-1852), was a retired Boston merchant, who lived only two years after his appointment in 1850. He was succeeded by the Reverend John Lord Taylor(13) (1811-84), who was to fill in some respects the place in the community formerly held by 'Squire Farrar. As scholar, clergyman, teacher, author, and business man he made his mark successively in several different fields, always leaving the impression that he could not fail in anything which he seriously undertook.

When John L. Taylor resigned in 1868 in order to become President of the Seminary, his position was taken by Edward Taylor(14) (1817-93), who was Treasurer for twenty-one years, until 1889. From 1852 until 1871 Phillips Academy was administered by Taylors, for Dr. Samuel H. Taylor, working first with John L. Taylor and afterwards with Edward Taylor, certainly controlled the school.

Several of the Trustees elected under Dr. Samuel H. Taylor were men of ability, among them being William Augustus Stearns (1805-78), President of Amherst College; Alpheus Hardy (1815-87), later a President of the Board; and Dr. Daniel T. Fiske (1819-1903), also a President, following Mr. Hardy. Speaking generally, however, they formed a weaker body than the group of men who had been accustomed to meet with Judge Phillips in the Mansion House fifty and sixty years before. As the Academy grew larger and more complex in its organization, the intimate relations between it and individual Trustees were no longer so noticeable. The members of the Board, engrossed with the weighty problems connected with Andover Theological Seminary, paid little attention to Phillips Academy; they no longer condescended to interfere, as in the old days, in petty disciplinary matters; and they came, probably almost unconsciously, to regard their meetings as mainly for the purpose of ratifying the decrees of the Principal. Gradually Dr. Taylor seized the control in his own strong hands; he alone, except in real crises, determined the nature of the curriculum, settled cases of insubordination or poor scholarship, and engaged his own assistants. He always, however, submitted his decisions to Andover members of the Board, like 'Squire Farrar, Dr. Edwards, John L. Taylor, or John Aiken, who formed a kind of "cabinet" and who seldom questioned his judgment. The Trustees, for their part, were properly satisfied to be relieved of much trivial detail which, in an earlier generation, had occupied altogether too much of their time.

The Andover of Dr. Taylor's time was a New England Athens, a genuine center of intellectual and spiritual life. It was the golden age of the Theological Seminary, when great preachers walked the streets and when the Draper press teemed with volume after volume from the pens of professors and their talented wives and daughters. In the south study of the President's House, where so many famous persons had deliberated on Monday evenings in the days of Dr. Porter, Professor Austin Phelps (1820-90) was preparing sermons so brilliant that they stirred even a congregation already surfeited with pulpit eloquence, and writing his well-known Still Hour and other religious books so popular in the "fifties."

On Andover Hill Professor Phelps's gifted daughter, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps (1844-1908), conceived the plan of The Gates Ajar (1869), which gave her reputation almost in a day. In the little white summer house in the rear of her father's home, or in the sunny rooms of the Chandler farmhouse next door, she used to sit at her table writing a long series of novels and stories, many of which, like A Singular Life and Walled In, are redolent of the theological atmosphere in the aroma of which she grew to womanhood. One of her later books, Chapters from a Life, is filled with interesting personal reminiscences of her years in Andover.

When Dr. Taylor took office, and for some years afterward, the most noble figure on the Hill was Professor Stuart, "the father of Hebrew literature in America" (and also the father of two of Professor Phelps's wives), who, full even then of inexhaustible energy, was recognized from afar by his Indian lope, as he moved as if shot from a gun over the old plankwalk on the way to Bartlet Chapel. Oliver Wendell Holmes once described him: --

Tall, lean, with strong, bold features, a keen, scholarly, accipitrine nose, thin, expressive lips, great solemnity and impressiveness of voice and manner, he was my early model of a classic orator. His air was Roman, his neck long and bare like Cicero's, and his toga --- that is, his broadcloth cloak --- was carried on his arm, whatever might have been the weather, with such a statue-like, rigid grace that he might have been turned into marble where he stood, and looked noble by the side of the antiques in the Vatican.

Whether in setting Hebrew type, in composing formidable tracts in obscure Oriental tongues, or in making hay in his stony meadow, he was an unquenchable enthusiast. Once, when several of his pupils were assisting him in the hayfield behind his house and the crop was of even worse than the customary poor quality, he broke out: --

Bah! Was there ever climate and soil like this! Manure the land as much as you will, it all leaches through this gravel, and very soon not a trace of it can be seen. If you plant early, everything is liable to be cut off by the late frosts of spring. If you plant late, your crop is destroyed by the early frosts of autumn. If you escape these, the burning sun of summer scorches your crop, and it perishes by heat and drought. If none of these evils overtake you, clouds of insects eat up your crop, and what the caterpillar leaves, the cankerworm devours.

To his awed listeners he seemed like a modern Jeremiah, lamenting the woes of his harassed generation.

In the year that Professor Stuart died there came to Andover Professor Calvin E. Stowe (1802-86) and his wife, Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-96), who had just published Uncle Tom's Cabin. They soon were settled in the "stone shell of a building" on Chapel Avenue, which was at this time remodeled as a residence in conformity with suggestions outlined by Mrs. Stowe. There, in the attractive study on the ground floor, which was always filled with flowers, she composed many of her books, including the one entitled Dred. The Stowes, with a hospitality quite strange to staid Andoverians, shocked the townspeople with the amusements which they provided for their guests: tableaux, charades, and even, on one memorable occasion, a Christmas tree. Up to this date the "levee," or reception, had been the most daring of Andover's social recreations. Mrs. Stowe, "as thin and dry as a pinch of snuff," was often seen on the Seminary Campus, attended by her two favorite dogs. There was a vague suspicion that she sometimes visited the theater in Boston, and it was even hinted by some of those who disliked her that she had Episcopalian leanings. Her twin daughters, named, one after herself, the other after her husband's first wife, resembled each other so much that they were distinguished by red and blue ribbons, and when these were once shifted by a mischievous practical joker, the mother herself was at a loss to know which was which. In 1864 the Stowes moved to Hartford, Connecticut, where Mrs. Stowe, after her husband's death, continued to live until her death in 1896; but her body, at her own request, was brought back to Andover and buried in the beautiful cemetery near the house on the hill which she had learned to love so well.

Only one man was qualified to fill the position in the Andover community occupied by Professor Stuart, --- Edwards Amasa Park(15) (1808-1900), professor in the Seminary from 1836 until 1881. In the retrospect Professor Park seems to those who knew him to have been far greater than anything he ever did. His sermons --- especially some five or six, like those on Judas and Peter, of extraordinary power ---were the talk of his contemporaries, and were frequently repeated in response to a general request. He was a delightful occasional speaker, as well as an impressive lecturer and orator. In his younger days he was assailed as a radical in theology; in his old age he was reproached with being unprogressive and reactionary. No one is likely to forget Mrs. Ward's picture of Professor Park, teaching schoolgirls his theological doctrines, --- "An infinite wrong against an Infinite Being deserves an infinite punishment." Despite much harsh and often unintelligent criticism he remained fast to his faith at both periods and seemed indifferent to attack. Professor Park and Dr. Taylor were associated for many years in the editorship of the Bibliotheca Sacra. Dr. Taylor regularly corrected the proof-sheets and on rare occasions contributed an article, but Professor Park retained the editorial responsibility in his own hands. Professor Park had a striking personality which made him an object of veneration, and which led passers-by to look at him with awe as he paced, an hour at a time, up and down the path from his house to the street, his brow apparently knit in profound thought.

Another delightful person was John W. Churchill(16) (1839-1900), who, while he was a student in the Theological Seminary in 1866, was made Instructor in Elocution in Phillips Academy, and retained that position for thirty-four years. He succeeded in making public speaking one of the most interesting features of the curriculum. Most of Professor Churchill's work was, of course, accomplished under Dr. Bancroft, but he brought his first contagious enthusiasm to the last years of Dr. Taylor's administration. He had hardly taken his place as teacher before he persuaded Warren F. Draper(17) (1818-1905), of Andover, to give forty dollars for the Draper prizes in declamation. Mr. Draper, it is said, was first led to acquiesce in Professor Churchill's suggestion by hearing a poorly delivered sermon, at the close of which he resolved that he would do his best to eradicate inarticulate enunciation and halting delivery in the younger generation. These prizes, maintained by Mr. Draper for many years and still supported by a fund given by him to the Trustees, have been of incalculable value in stimulating boys to become good speakers. When the excellent results obtained by the training for the Draper contest had become apparent, Mr. William G. Means(18) (1815-94), of Andover, presented forty dollars to be awarded for excellence in "original declamation." These prizes, usually three in number, were eventually made permanent by a clause in Mr. Means's will. In drilling boys for these competitions Professor Churchill had ample opportunity to display his extraordinary ability as an instructor, and the contests which resulted were memorable events in the academic year. Every detail in delivery was carefully attended to. "Trifles make perfection, but perfection is no trifle," he used to say to his students, and they soon learned the lesson. He won a reputation which extended beyond New England, and which led Matthew Arnold, when he came to America, to seek Professor Churchill's aid in teaching him how properly to use his voice in reading and lecturing. Professor Churchill was a witty and tactful presiding officer, without whose presence no anniversary or dinner in the vicinity was ever complete. But, more than all else, he was a friend, deeply and widely beloved.

While men like Professor Park and Professor Churchill were alive, Andover Hill was likely to be well known. They, like Dr. Samuel H. Taylor, were personages whom even careless boys could hardly help remembering in after days. Young men at Phillips Academy could not escape being touched in part by the spirit of these preceptors who knew "the joy of elevated thoughts." Boys learned on Andover Hill something besides their formal schooling; they came, no matter how slightly, in contact with men of power, with ideas and ideals that were well worth while.

 

CHAPTER XVI

THE INTERREGNUM: FREDERIC W. TILTON

NOT in rewards, but in the strength to strive,
The blessing lies.                      

WHOEVER followed Samuel H. Taylor as Principal was bound to have no easy time of it. His system was so deeply rooted, his rules had been so inflexible, and he had so succeeded in impressing them upon the boys that, while reconstruction was inevitable, it could hardly fail to result in temporary disorganization. Nevertheless, the attempt had to be made. The hour was near which was to decide whether the New England Academy had the vitality to survive amid new conditions, whether in a period of rapid and significant changes it still had a function to perform. The curriculum, as we have seen, was in sad need of revision; the Faculty had to be strengthened; and Phillips Academy had to be placed on a parity with other institutions of similar aim and character. These problems, and others no less serious, awaited the man venturesome enough to assume the toga dropped by "Uncle Sam."

During the uncertain weeks following Dr. Taylor's funeral William G. Goldsmith, the Peabody Instructor, took matters in charge and showed himself to be a competent administrator. In March a committee of the Trustees made an offer to Frederic W. Tilton, of Newport, Rhode Island, but it was declined; then the committee, not satisfied, induced Mr. Tilton to come to Cambridge for a conference. Mr. Tilton, who could even at a distance read the handwriting on the wall, was by no means eager to accept the opportunity and insisted that "the Trustees should first approve of his views in regard to the administration of the Academy." This they did with unexpected alacrity, and on June 19 the preliminaries were settled. Mr. Tilton was to have a salary of $2500 a year and suitable quarters for himself and family. During the summer he took up his residence in the north side of the Double Brick House, Mrs. Taylor retaining the south apartment.

The extent of the proposed reorganization was apparent from the fact that Mr. Tilton was a graduate of Harvard, the college which Dr. Taylor so distrusted. Frederic William Tilton was born May 14, 1839, in Cambridge, the son of Benjamin and Lucinda (Newell) Tilton. After completing his course at Harvard with high honors in 1862, he studied for several months in the University of Göttingen. In 1863 he went to the Highland Military Academy at Worcester as Instructor in Latin, and there remained three years. He married in 1864 Ellen Trowbridge, sister of Professor John Trowbridge, of Harvard. He moved to Newport, Rhode Island, in 1867, as Superintendent of Public Schools.

FREDERIC WILLIAM TILTON

Mr. Tilton was certainly a trained teacher and administrator. As he himself realized, however, he was not familiar with schools like Phillips Academy, the peculiar problems of which had been outside his province. He wisely endeavored to correct his ignorance by seeking advice from those well acquainted with conditions at Andover, and to this end consulted several Trustees and townspeople, as well as the two remaining members of the Faculty, George H. Taylor and William W. Eaton. George H. Taylor retained his position. William W. Eaton(1) (1846-1905) also remained in the Academy through Mr. Tilton's administration.

Acting partly on President Eliot's advice, Mr. Tilton urged the Trustees to readjust studies so that Phillips Academy would be able to meet the entrance requirements, not only of Harvard, but also of other reputable colleges. The first indication of the new régime is found in a statement of the catalogue for 1872:---

It is confidently expected that from the opening of the Fall term of 1872, instruction will be given in Modern Languages. Such instruction will be open to those members of the Middle and Senior Classes who desire it. There will be an extra charge, not exceeding five dollars per term, for each language.

Professor Oscar Faulhaber, who had been conducting a small private school in the old Marland House, was accordingly engaged as a teacher of French and German. This step is interesting as showing the reaction against Dr. Taylor's system. It was for innovations such as this that he had had the strongest distaste, fearing that they would have an injurious effect upon classical study.

Mr. Tilton's two years were really too short for the accomplishment of lasting reforms; they constituted, in fact, a time of transition, when Phillips Academy, lying fallow, was preparing for renewed fertility. Evidently the loss of Dr. Taylor caused no diminution of confidence in the school, for the attendance increased from 228 in 1871 to 241 in 1872 and 252 in 1873. Nor did the scholarship of the students suffer. Mr. Tilton soon discovered, as James S. Eaton had pointed out in 1865, that mathematical subjects in the school were being wretchedly taught. This deficiency he promptly remedied by taking charge of the algebra and geometry divisions himself, and laboring to elevate the standard. Even the preparation in the classics was not adapted to meet the entrance requirements of any Eastern college except Yale. When Mr. Tilton arrived, the Greek class, supposed to be ready for college, had read only part of one book of the Anabasis, Dr. Taylor having relied on the well-known willingness of the Yale authorities to accept without examination men bearing his recommendation. This class Mr. Eaton and Mr. Tilton succeeded in preparing in one year, after using a large number of extra hours. Under Dr. Taylor boys who wished to enter college had been practically forced to choose Yale. Mr. Tilton publicly expressed his disapproval of this policy by announcing in chapel that his aim would be to qualify Phillips boys for any higher institution. The immediate result appeared at the close of Mr. Tilton's first year, when seventeen of the graduating class went to Harvard, a larger number than in any one year since the days of John Adams. Every other pupil, moreover, who desired to enter college from Andover was admitted without difficulty. Dr. Taylor at his best could have done no better.

Under Dr. Taylor the Faculty had possessed comparatively little power. Their advice was seldom asked for; every case of discipline, every problem of classroom management, was handled by the Principal. It is to Mr. Tilton's credit that he established weekly Faculty meetings, at which offenses were reported and difficulties discussed. The office of Secretary of the Faculty was created, and filled on April 25, 1873, by F. E. Thompson. Phillips Academy was on the road to becoming something more than a "one man school." For the first time in Academy history reports of each boy's standing were sent at intervals to his parents, and a list of high scholars was read at the end of each term before the student body.

The boys' Sunday, as Mr. Tilton found it, was decidedly depressing. Two church services were held, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon, at each of which long sermons were preached by clergymen, usually Seminary professors, who often had little success in interesting the younger section of the congregation. The new Principal excused the pupils from the afternoon sermon, and in its place held a brief vesper service for Academy boys only, at which some distinguished man, not necessarily a minister, gave a short talk. This sensible innovation was immensely popular with both teachers and undergraduates.

With the discipline Mr. Tilton met some formidable obstacles. His hand was not so heavy as that of his predecessor, and he could not reconcile himself to the use of the somewhat brutal methods traditional in the school. Often he was out all night, simply because he feared some lawless outbreak. Attempts were made to continue the practice of publishing "Mock Programmes," at Commencement, and the Middlers in 1872 printed a paper called The Pony Phaëton, --- a scurrilous performance in which the Seniors were assailed and Tilton was ridiculed. Fortunately the editors were soon discovered, and several of them, including the son of a prominent statesman, were expelled. This drastic action doubtless aided the Middlers at the close of the following year in stating publicly: "The time has arrived to abolish the custom of Mock Programmes, and as a class we have taken the initiatory steps to that end." A few turbulent spirits even at that Commencement did actually produce a "Mock Programme," but the better element in the class quickly suppressed it. The copies which had already appeared were burned on a hot June day in a stove in the Farrar House, and the Exhibition was carried on undisturbed.

On one occasion Mr. Tilton was clever enough to outwit the boys. Having been warned in advance of one annual school custom, he asked Deacon Chandler. the Seminary sexton of the Chapel, to have an extra bell-clapper made and kept ready for emergencies. When, on a cold Saturday night in December, the clapper suddenly disappeared, Deacon Chandler, as soon as he discovered the loss, merely used the newly made tongue. The crafty culprits, who had expected to escape the church service because of the failure of the bell to ring, were chagrined to hear it pealing out as usual. A few of the older inhabitants, noticing a peculiar tone to the ring, suspected that the bell had been affected by the intense cold.

Mr. Tilton soon recognized that, for a man of his temperament, the responsibility and strain were likely to prove injurious. With practically every minute of his time occupied in teaching and administration, he had no opportunity for recreation or reading. Mrs. Tilton also found that her husband's cares were reacting on her own health. Mainly for these reasons he resigned on March 17, 1873. Mr. Tilton left Andover in June, and went at once to Newport, Rhode Island, as Head Master of the newly founded Rogers High School in that city. About 1890 he retired from teaching and settled in Cambridge, where he resides to-day.

Mr. Tilton will be remembered as the leader who bridged over the gulf between the Phillips Academy of Dr. Taylor and the more modern school of Dr. Bancroft. In his efforts at reform he was undoubtedly vigorous and wise. Something, too, he did accomplish in introducing more efficient methods of instruction and government, and had he been able to carry out his plans, his career at Andover would probably have been distinguished. As it was, he did much to make the way easier for Dr. Bancroft.

It is not difficult to understand, then, how an alumnus who studied under both Dr. Taylor and Mr. Tilton could say: --

It seemed to me that the Tilton régime was a disorganized affair, a sort of transition period after the iron discipline of Dr. Taylor, and that the Academy did not get into good working order again until later on with Bancroft.

But we may well quote also the words of Charles Moore, of the class of 1874, at the Centennial in 1878, when he presented to Phillips Academy a portrait of Mr. Tilton, painted by Stone: --

So short a time has passed since he went from among you that it needs no words of mine to call up the remembrance of a man whose dignity, scholarship, and ability to teach have placed him in the front rank of New England's educators.


Chapter Seventeen

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