Valedictory Address

Valedictory Address for the class of '86. The University Monthly VI, 9 (June 1887): 8-12.

On a bright September morning, nearly four years ago, twenty-two young men met in this room, and successfully matriculated into the University of New Brunswick. This class, which in academical genealogy, was to be known as ’86, was fairly representative. All the principal religious denominations could claim their adherents, and nine counties of the province were represented. Of this comparatively large class, the County of York sent but two members, and of these two, one was a resident of the city of Fredericton. This fact is worthy of note, as in itself it constitutes one of the most forcible and convincing arguments which can be used against those persons who have said at many times and in many places, that the advantages and influence of our Provincial University do not extend beyond the city of Fredericton and the county of York. And it is also a matter of no inconsiderable consequence, as showing the steady advance of the principles of higher education and deeper culture, as well as in determining the general nature of this progress, and the liberal spirit it has already assumed, that the first colored student who ever crossed the threshold of a university or college in the Maritime provinces, passed with us a successful academical career, and graduated with honors in classics. Perhaps the speculative mind might have suggested that his presence among us was a precursory indication of the numerous changes and radical innovations which characterized the somewhat checkered career of the class of ’86.

Of the bright anticipations and flattering hopes, of the visions of brilliant conquests, and the dreams of bravely won laurels from the battle fields of learning which “bright eyed fancy” “scattered from her pictured urn” it is unnecessary to speak. The same highly colored illusions have been seen by most men who gazed from the standpoint of inexperienced youth towards the sunlit mirage of the future; the same castles-in-the-air have been built for unnumbered ages, and long years after the pilgrim of the world, battling with the disappointments, and oft times adverse vicissitudes of life, looked back over the rough and rugged road behind him, and knew that his mirage was chiefly a delusion and his air built castles, bright children of his imagination.

What wonder then that the verdant freshman, standing in the gateway of a new field of life, which offers more than ordinary inducements for gratifying the appetite of ambition, would view the future with magnifying eyes, and see for himself conquests and successes which but a favored few may realize. What wonder that the three years of practical college life with its inevitable regular examinations, and often with its supplementaries, would serve to impress upon our minds the vanity of human expectations; nor was it otherwise. When ’86 donned the cap and gown the University of New Brunswick registered a class whose achievements in the fields of art and science would form the brightest page in its history. But as examination after examination told its tale, our conceptions of our own ability gradually assumed a more modest attitude, so that long before degree examination, it was the grand aim of '86 to be in a position to say, after that ordeal, that no man was plucked. And no man was plucked.

I do not mention this fact for the purpose of throwing the least reproach upon the ability and honest scholarship of the class of which I am but an unworthy representative. They did as well as the best. But like many other good men and true they lived to ask in the language of the poet,

“Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now the glory and the dream?”

Dreams they were, it is true. But who can say that if amid the deluge of pain, discouragement and sorrow, which oftimes falls when least expected, the bright and many coloured promises of hope, smiling like a rainbow through the clouds of disappointment and doubt, had not given “promise of a brighter day to-morrow,” who can say that individual success would ever be as great as it is?

Our freshmen and junior years passed without the occurrence of any events beyond the ordinary experience of college life, except the periodical encounters between students and faculty. During our junior year these deplorable disturbances culminated in a dead-lock, which for .a time threatened to defeat the chief end of the university.

The calamity was averted, and will doubtless be remembered as the death throes of a practice “more honored in the breach than the observance.”

During the interval between our junior and senior years a change was made in the professorial staff. Age and failing health had compelled the venerable Dr. Jack to resign the presidency of the institution and retire from active life. For forty-five years he had been connected with the institution; for twenty-five years of that time he had filled the presidential chair. His long and faithful service in the institution; his personal interest in each individual student; and his wide spread popularity, combined to make the causes which necessitated his retirement greatly to be regretted. He bore away with him the heartfelt wishes of all connected with the university, for his future welfare. He did not live long to enjoy the blessings of a quiet life. A few months after his retirement, lectures at the university were suspended out of respect to the memory of him with whose name that of the institution is inseparably connected, and professors, senators, alumni, and students joined in the general concourse of citizens which followed his mortal remains to the grave. And numbers of graduates unable to attend his funeral, many even in far distant lands, hearing that he was gone, and remembering only his integrity, his erudition, and his unflagging interest in the educational welfare of the province, turned aside for a moment to “bid fair peace be to his sable shroud.”

Close upon the resignation of Dr. Jack followed that of Professor Rivet. As an instructor in French language and literature, he tried faithfully to impart a fair knowledge of the subject he treated. But owing to the disadvantages and inconveniences which haunt a foreign professor in an English university, Professor Rivet did not always find beneath academical bowers a bed of roses. He will long be remembered, by the students, as an earnest and painstaking instructor, and he may feel assured that whatever may be the nature of his work in the future he will always have the best wishes of his old students for his success.

In her choice of new professors, the university was decidedly felicitous. The two young men whom she selected to fill her vacant chairs are distinguished graduates of distinguished universities. Both are honor men in the subjects they teach. Devoted to their professions, and earnest, energetic students themselves, they cannot fail to impart a new life and vigor to the institution, and but I reflect the sentiments of my class when I say: long may they live, reflecting the lustre of their ever brightening names upon the University with whose interests their own are identified.

During our senior year the undergraduate course was extended from three to four years. This change met with much adverse criticism. But among the students and those best fitted to pass an opinion the wisdom, the absolute necessity of the change was not questioned. Those who have borne the burden and heat of the day know well how constant is the strain imposed upon the mental energies of those who honestly desire to profit by their advantages, and those who, by dint of rare intellectual abilities and iron constitutions, reaped the full harvest, felt that their store house of knowledge showed too much evidence of hasty storage.

Nor was this all. To a graduate the standing of his alma mater in comparison with similar institutions, is a matter of no inconsiderable consequence. If a degree is of any value (and we hope there are few who would presume to question the value of a well earned degree) ceteris paribus, it is valuable just in proportion to the popularity of the institution of which it bears the seal. This fact is not lost sight of by those who sit in high places, and a graduate who makes application for any responsible position, unless he is distinguished by particular excellence, finds his abilities rated below par if his alma mater is so rated. The inefficacy of any thing short of a four years’ course, was recognized by the medical and legal professions, when they had the law so amended that no one may practise law or medicine in this province until he has devoted four years to the study of his profession. Other universities too, far and near, when they could claim superiority to the University of New Brunswick in no other respect, pointed in silence to their four years’ course. If any convincing proof of the unpopularity of a three years’ course were wanting, it was fully supplied by a letter received from the president of Harvard University, in reply to a letter sent by a member of the class of ’86, asking upon what terms he could be admitted to the arts course of that institution, after graduating from the University of N. B. I will not cause the blush of shame to suffuse the face of any of Alma Mater’s illustrious sons who may be present to-day, by making public the substance of that reply. But I will venture the assertion that if a similar letter were sent to the same gentleman to-day, together with a calendar of the U. N. B. corrected to June, 1887, the reply would go far towards vindicating the wisdom of a four year’s course.

It has been urged by those opposed to the change that the extra expense necessarily entailed, would prove detrimental to the best interests of those students whose means are limited. If this argument were valid it would be conclusive. But a little thought will discover the fallacy. The future success of all true students, especially of those with limited means, depends upon the thoroughness of their academical training. And he who thinks that the value of an education is determined by the ease and rapidity with which a B. A. degree can be obtained, will find before he has been long a student, or at furthermost, before he has been long among men of the world, that where he can afford to give five hundred dollars for an unsatisfactory education, he can far better afford to give seven hundred dollars for a thorough one. Even though it take him a little longer, though an extra effort is demanded, and though a greater sacrifice has to be made, the pleasure and profit that will speedily follow will more than repay the extra effort, the further outlay, and the greater sacrifice.

Another improvement of incomputable value was the introduction of optional studies. For years the student who presented himself for B. A. degree had to pass an examination in seven never varying subjects. Years after, the same student, now an old man, might send his son to the University, and though, since the father’s time the world might have moved ahead in a tangent, the boy had to begin just where his father began; had to follow in his footsteps for three years, and at the end of that time his degree depended upon his being able to conquer the identical seven subjects which his father mastered before him. Indeed, one of the students was heard to say that these studies bore such a striking resemblance both in number and name to the seven liberal arts and sciences of the ancients, that when he wished to realize the rapid advance of modern civilization, he had to turn away from his books and study the fashion plate.

Homely and far-fetched as was the idea it yet served to illustrate the natural tendency of such a course of study when too closely followed. The curriculum was good in its time. But its time was long past when our authorities finally decided that the student who hopes to succeed, must be allowed some latitude in the choice of studies. Not until the beginning of the academical year just closed, did the senate conclude that a student who had reached his senior year was himself the best judge of what studies would be of the most practical benefit to him; and that, controlled by that judgment, it be in his option to drop that subject for which he had no taste, and for which he could see no practical use in the future, and elect in its stead that subject best adapted to his present capacity and his future needs.

It is, however, but fair to say that long before its introduction the vital necessity of a system of options was recognized by many members of the institution. But our limited professorial staff stood in the way of its immediate consummation. The staff is no larger now than then; and the system is only made practicable by the assumption of extra work by some of the professors. On this account its benefits are only partly realized. Now, more than ever before, is felt the need of at least one more instructor. But the funds necessary for his support are not forth coming. The government have done all they can in the matter, all under the circumstances, they could be expected to do. No friend of higher education has been moved to immortalize his name and confer a lasting benefit on his fellow men by endowing a few chairs in the University of New Brunswick. Whither then are we to flee? To the alumni. To the graduates of this institution must be entrusted the honor and privilege of redeeming their benign mother from her embarrassing situation. And why should she not look to them for hearty support, and with good reason? If the graduates of the University, those who have sat beneath the shadow of her wing, who have received from her their mental strength; who have profited by her counsel, and who should be most deeply interested in her prosperity, if these her sons do not show sufficient interest in her welfare to make some sacrifices on her behalf, how can she expect comparative strangers to come to her relief in her hour of trouble? At its last commencement exercises the alumni of Acadia College, and if I am not mistaken, the alumni of Mount Allison as well, pledged themselves to maintain one new professor. Here certainly are examples worthy of emulation. Here is the practical way of showing interest in an alma mater. If this work should ever be undertaken by the Alumni Society I might be permitted to offer a suggestion I would say, that to my mind the easiest and simplest plan and the one most promising of success would lie that the secretary of the society ascertain for what sum per annum each class would be willing to become responsible. This plan has many advantages; those graduates of the institution who are not members of the alumni would be more directly accessible; a spirit of emulation between the many classes might be aroused which would tend to materially increase the sum-total, and the secretary of the society, instead of having to correspond and keep an account with every graduate of the University, would have to deal only with the class secretaries, who would collect the subscriptions from the individual members of their respective classes.

Nor should we fail to mention the fact that at the end of our senior year, the link which connected our modern civilization, with the barbarous past was broken, when it was decreed that women have as good a right to participate in the advantages of higher education, as have the “lords of creation.” The attendance of the “weaker vessels”, during the past year has not been large. But now that a pioneer has explored the classic shades, we hope that next September she may have the novel pleasure of initiating a large class of novoe feminoe.

But while noticing these practical manifestations of the spirit of progress and reform which has characterized the deliberations of the Senate during the past two years, we would fall short of our duty did we hesitate to produce any evidence which would lead to the conclusion that the authorities had sometimes acted with more energy than judgment. And we are afraid that the great good which must have resulted from the inauguration of tin reforms just enumerated will be sadly hindered, if not totally counteracted by a late decree of the Senate. I refer to the abolition of residency. What circumstances influenced the Senate in arriving at their decision, we have no means of knowing. But they must have been very forcible arguments indeed which could induce any body of men, legislating in the interests of the University, to sever the one bond which united all her various interests, which binds student to student during their undergraduate days, and in after years connects them through one common medium, their alma mater. Indeed the abolition of college residency represses the spirit which gives life and energy to the whole system, and annihilates those principles which more than anything else tend to develop and nourish the student’s conceptions of a true alma mater. Far better would it have been if the authorities had devised some plan whereby a greater number of the students could have been accommodated in one boarding house under the direct supervision of the college authorities; where they would have been removed to a great extent from the many snares and temptations which assail young men who came from refining and restraining influence of home life and settle in the busy city. And if there is any one thing more than another that we would like to impress upon the minds of the senate it is the advisability of reconsidering a judgment which, if persisted in, cannot fail to shake the social and moral fabric of this institution to its corner stone.

On looking back over our academical career, we cannot fail to realize that, although interrupted by many untoward events it was on the whole pleasant and profitable. Vexations and disappointments we often had to endure, but these served to sound our resources, to test our strength, to develop our natures, and to unite us in closer union with one another and our alma mater. And when sending us out into the “wide wide world” could she have spoken, she would doubtless have said in the words of the poet of old: Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. Her defects, whatever their nature are overshadowed by the greater magnitude of the many priceless gifts she freely upon the faithful student. Her curriculum comprises all those subjects which tend to strengthen, refine, and elevate refine and elevate. The works of the best historians are here an intelligent study of which, together with the various applications of comparison and interpretation, is the only thing which can raise as near the level of the ancient scholar who was said to know the past, the present and the future. Science and philosophy, in their many branches, point us the way to truth by the paths of reason, dispell the darkness of ignorance, and throw their rays of light upon the fog-bound labyrinthine way that leads “from nature’s secret up to nature’s God.” The study of English literature recalls the buried past, and gives us the richest thoughts of the most scholarly men of England in her palmiest days. Poetry is here in its most beautiful form to cheer, refine and elevate. In the the words of Francis Turner Palgrave, “like the fabled fountain of the Azores, but with a more various power, the magic of this art can confer on each period of life its appropriate blessing: on early years experience, on maturity calm, on age youthfulness. Poetry gives treasures “more gold than gold leading us in higher and healthier ways than those of the world, and interpreting to us the lessons of nature.”

To you who are left behind I have but "a word to say. It is needless to tell you that “the lines have fallen to you in pleasant places,” or to remind you that you are now enjoying privileges for which many a man has sacrificed health home and fair worldly prospects. You cannot have reached your age of life, and not have learned from some source, the many difficulties and trials which men, whose names are now famous in history, have undergone in order to secure an education. No one could have passed the freshman year in this university, and not have been touched by reading the pathetic account of old Dr. Samuel Johnson’s struggles against poverty, obscurity, ridicule, and sickness in his determined efforts to become a man of letters. Many other biographies equally striking and affecting serve to impress upon the mind of the present generation of students the inestimable advantages and priceless gifts which a free and enlightened people have provided for their children. Our forefathers, who years ago made their homes in the trackless forests of the new world, had to undergo many privations, had to practice economy and “live laborious days,” before they could throw open the doors of free institutions of learning to their posterity.

A realization of these facts, and a conscientious reflection upon the duties you owe to your God your country, your neighbor and yourselves, should determine each student to profit by his advantages. Cultivate the spirit of learning, encourage it, give it the first place in your thoughts and actions. Let nothing interfere to contest with it the right to sovereign sway. Do not be easily discouraged. Do not be surprised if you do not achieve all that you had hoped for. Do not wonder if you fall short of the mark you set for the flight of your ambition. The student who still works bravely on, though often passed by those whose genius takes quicker flight, will sooner or later succeed. It is not the quick and ready student that always wins the race. The steady toiler generally does best in the long run.

"The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight.
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upwards through the night.”

To those whom the University sends forth with her blessing to-day, I have but little advice to give. Your experience is as extended as mine. But I think we should all remember that our education is not finished. It is just commenced. We have acquired the best gift that the University can bestow if we have learned how to study. An education can not be acquired during our college course, however excellent. It is only the life-long student--the earnest, diligent worker who can ever reach , the Darian heights whence, in silent admiration, he may gaze upon those truths “ which we are toiling all our lives to find.”

To the faculty of this institution, who have ever proved to be “our guides, philosophers, and friends,” to whom we are indebted for many and repeated acts of kindness, and to whose skill and patience we owe the greater part of whatever success has attended our efforts; to the citizens of Fredericton, whose  kindness and hospitality has materially aided to make our college life pleasant as well as profitable, on behalf of my classmates I return our grateful, heartfelt thanks. And in bidding one and all farewell, our sincere wish is that the institution, in which we have seen so many happy days, may grow in strength and public favor, and that in coming ages she may shed abroad an influence which, like the noon-day sun, will dispel darkness, promote growth and development, and bring happiness and prosperity to all who come beneath its refining and elevating rays.