Morning journal and courier., 1882-02-16

the earliest of his pupils among the officers
of the college, and who was for longer Pc
riod than anyone else associated with Presi-
dent Woolsey as professor.
| The medal was made in Paris, and is the
work of Chaplain. No superior modern
work of the kind has probably ever been
| brought to America. On one side is an ex-
cellent likeness of President Woolsey in re-
| lief, on the diverse within q beautiful wreath
of laurel is the legend:
| PRAECEPTORT
pRAECEPToREs
| YALENSES,
MDCCCxXXI.
| MDCcCLXxXI.
| i'EThe Yale teachers to their teacherO
| Prof. TEACHERS address of presentation
was as follows:
| My Dear Friend-Fifty years have passed
since you began the important and fruitful
| work of your life as an officer in Yale Col
| Iege; and desiring to mark the occasion by
some outward sign, however inadequate, we
have requested you to meet us in this familiar
room to-day that we MAJ. offer you, in the
| beautiful work of art which [ hold in my
/ hand, an honest token of our respect and
| our grateful affection.
| The half century of your service here as
professor, president and member of the cor
| poration was completed on the 18th of last
| September, and we had in our minds ap-
| pointed that day for the ceremony in which
we are now engaged
| But cart is long" in a prosaic as we'll as in
| the partial sense land time is heeting" Yet
| we could only rejoice to give our eminent ar
fist all the time that he was willing to
| spend in perfecting his most exquisite work.
It has at last survived all delays has escaped
the perils of the sea, and we rejoice now in
being able to place it in your hands.
| Our errand is not formal, for we come in
| here as friends who have been made famil-
| iarly acquainted with you and with each
| other in many ways and through many years.
| Most of US remember that in our undergrad
| uate life you taught us Greek, or history, or
political philosophy, or public economy, or
| international law and each one of us has
| rejoiced and rejoices still that he received
instruction from you in that particular line
of studies in which you were his teacher.
| You have not, it is true, seen every one of
us on the college benches. But yet, in a
noble sense, we have all been your pupils.
| There is not one of us to whom you have
not really been teacher,-not one of us
| from your lips, or your pen, or your life
AS the legend of the medal says, therefore
| you have been our preceptor.
| In the next place your instructions have
helped to fit us, SO far as we are fitted to be
| ourselves preceptors with you, and after you,
in this same place of education.
! Again, it is noticeable fact that of the
| sixty or more permanent officers of the col
| lege who may be before you to- day, there are
| only three, as I believe, who do not owe their
position in part to your voice or vote as a
member of the corporation, for l am sure
| that no one would have been elected as pro-
| lessor if your voice had been against it.
| Three of us were made professors before
you were indicted into the Office of president
l of the college and became corporator. But
I of those three have good reason for saying
| that two received their appointment as much
at least through your influence as through
that of anyone else. For myself, the first
appointed of the three, may affirm that
owe it to your too partial judgment that
was made a professor, and have thus been
permitted to enjoy the delightful life of being
a teacher of such young men as this institu-
| ton gathers here during these many inter
yening years.
| Let me add have been appointed to repre-
sent my colleagues on this occasion, although
| the least worthy, only because was the ear
| Hest of your pupils, and because have been
| for a longer period than anyone else associ-
ated with you as colleague No one could
| was admitted freshman on the day on which
you were made professor, and your first
| instructions as professor were given to my
class.
You see by how many and how various
| ties we are allied to you. AS have present
ed them they have respect to official rela
| tons. But behind them there have been the
| delights of friendship and mutual regard
| into which cannot enter here. 4
Nor can nr0ceed TO enumerato the SIpnif
| icant achievements of your life, our sense of
| the value of which has led us so cordially to
unite in this ceremony of respect. If /
should do so, it would be out of harmony
! with one of the very qualities which seem to
| us the most beautiful in those whom we most
highly esteem and I should almost expect
you with friendly freedom, to lay your hand
| upon my mouth if 1 should, in the presence
of only these friends of lifetime, go on to
tell what you have done for Yale College, the
college which we love as we love our life,
for the tone of it's scholarship, for its sur.
prising growth, its firm strength and efficien-
cy; or what you have done to promote the
best learning in our whole country, what
permanent contributions you have. made to
classical literature, to political philosophy,
to international law and to the cause of pub
lie morals. Even these mere illusions are al
most too much for you to bear without a
painful shrinking of both flesh and spirit.
Still less could 7 obtain your permission to
rehearse those qualities of character which,
in the head of such a college as this, may be
of more influence and of more value in fash
ioning the character of the multitude of
young men who observe him, than the rich
est treasures of learning with which he could
inform their minds. May 1 not mention the
love of truth do not mean the love of true
things, although that is included, but the
love of trueness, truth as the virtue which is
| he of oil wi, 4r 81
breasted TRUTH" truth in social intercourse,
truth in scholarship rejecting all shams and
varnish, fair truth in criticism, truth which
does not hesitate to acknowledge an error or
a mistake, ''truth in the inward parts and
in the whole conduct of life, the opposite of
that which the Romans so expressively call
U0asitas, utter emptiness.
Nearly akin to truth is justice, yet differing
from it in this, that while the arm of justice
may sometimes be stayed, the integrity of
truth is never even to be meaced. The
exercise of deliberate justice often requires
great courage But pardon me if [ ask if
either friend or foe ever found it necessary
to prompt you to ''be just and fear not"
have seen your justice and courage put to the
test against great odds.
Have you been stranger to wise and gen.
erous charity, to Christian faith, and godli-
ness, and docile obedience and silent sub
mission?
L can go no farther. should enter sacred
enclosures. Should finally bring even ir-
refragable proof of your possession of any
virtue, I know your quick, your almost i'm
patient reply would be: 81 have only done
what it was my duty to do ] have been an
improbable servant" To which we fancy
that we have the rejoinder: Servant of
God, well done"
Since that 18th of September, which we
had desired to celebrate, another anniversary
has passed over your head and completed the
four score years of your earthly life. The
world of men unite with the sacred word in
investing with glory such an old age.
But sometimes as prolonged life draws
toward its close, there is another glory
which. unseen by others, shines upon the in
dividual soul it waits for the final COM
mand and SO s'men of grace have found
glory begun below. q. May you discover the
Light of that heavenly glory, and as these
days and weeks and months pass, may it
grow brighter even to the end.
Ex-President WooIsey replied very feelingly
and appropriately in acknowledgment of the
tribute, and in his remarks gave some very
pleasant "reminiscences of his connection
with the institution. The whole affair was
quiet college matter, no one being present ex-
cept the professors, and it was an entire sur
prise to President Woolsey when he was
first informed of it last Saturday. Professor