Vanderbilt University - Commodore Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

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24 A 7,

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McTyeire made one last visit to the Commodore in early june, 1876. The Commodore, who never visited the campus of his name, asked the Bishop to delay his departure by one day. This would allow the Commodore time to execute his plans for an addition of S300,000 to the endowment fund, rounding his gift to an even million dollars. I have perfect confidence in my song the Commodore explained to the Bishop, I know he will carry out my wishes: but there's no telling what may happen from outside to delay and hinder: so you had better take it along with you. By early Ianuary, 1877, the Commodore was dead. Vanderbilt University was ready to venture forth with the largest endowment and one of the most complete faculties of any university in the South, apparently well on its way to becoming one of the strongest educational institutions in the country. It wasn't that easy. One problem was the students. Our students were all new, Chancellor Garland wrote to the Board of Trust in 1876. Few had any power of fixed and prolonged attention-or any practical knowledge of the modes of successful study . . . If we had stood firmly by our rules, we should have rejected fully two-thirds of those who presented themselves for matriculation. Hence sub-collegiate classes, which introduced a very large element of a boyish character. Maybe students just weren't ready for Vanderbilt. Garland also complained that students drawn from other schools were accustomed to an order of things very different from that which we wished to inaugurate. Sadly, this led to embarrassing cases of discipline. The sub-collegiate class was blamed. The fact is, Garland wrote, most of our troubles come from the Sub-Collegiate class. It is because those remanded to that class are, many of them, the failures sent up from the schools of the country, and only because they have attained the sixteen years of age. Sub-collegiate classes, however, were by no means unique to Vanderbilt. And Nashville was blamed-blamed as a corrupter of those youths who have no love of study, who have no training of mind, who do not know how to study, and who have been for the first time surrounded by the temptations of a large city. Abolish the sub-collegiate class, said Garland, and require entrance examinations. This would elevate the quality of Vanderbilt's tributary schools by letting it be known of a school that its pupils sent up to the University are always well trained. Though Vanderbilt started on equal footing with the best universities in the country, a

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year's preparation at Vanderbilt had become merely a prerequisite for admission to such schools, Garland wrote. I am a little mor- tified, Garland added, to see other un- iversities, such as Cambridge and Michigan, working upward and annually increasing the amount of preparation for admission to their courses of study, while we are working downward and lowering the character of our tributary schools. Nevertheless, the 1875 requirements for the Vanderbilt A.B. degree included several year's work in Latin, Greek, English and mathematics, proving the most stringent re- quirements in the South and the equal of any school in the coun- try. It is evident from all that has been said hitherto, Mims con- cludes, that Vander- bilt started off on a high tide. Its en- do Wm e nt, its buildings, its equip- ment all tended to put it out in the lead of southern universities. Requirements or no requirements, high tide or no high tide, Vanderbilt en- countered a period of recession and slowing of progress from 1878 to 1885. Tenure was an issue then, too. Ad- junct Professor of Latin B. W. Arnold, who had been highly commended by the President of the Board of Trust during the previous year, was denied promotion to a full professorship at the 1878 Board meeting. He was dismissed without notice or warning, and his successor was immediately elected. Ar- nold discovered his situation in a newspaper announcement. But Professor Alexander Winchell provided by far the hottest controversy in 1878. Winchell was a lecturer at Vanderbilt, a devout church member and an advocate of the theory of evolution, as explained in his book, The Pre-Adamites. Winchell had been invited by Bishop McTyeire and Chancellor Garland to lecture at the commencement. Then the trouble really started. Winchell was increasingly attacked by church papers, and even Dean Thomas Summers-a staunch defender of religious orthodoxy, though an admirer of Winchell-had been drawn into attacking his colleague. All this brouhaha wasn't lost on the good Bishop. Forty-five minutes before my lecture on 'Man in the Light of Geology', Winchell explained, I met Bishop McTyeire casually . . . He said, in effect, 'We are having considerable annoyance from the criticisms which are passed by our people on some of your positions . . . our peo- ple are of the opinion that such views are contrary to the plan of Redemptioni The Bishop, how- ever, asked Winchell to proceed with his commencement lec- ture, giving him a chance to put himself right. I asked if he wanted me to recantf' Winchell continued. I have no opinions to explain or defend. He suggested that I might considerately decline a reappoint- ment. I asked, Are professors subject to annual appointment? 'Well, yes, special professors are.' No, said I, with in- dignation and storm. I will not on such grounds decline a reappointment... No powers on earth could persuade me to decline. The Board acted within twenty- four hours. A three-year-old lectureship was