My Memories of Eighty Years | Page 4

in ancient history,
and the interest he aroused in Roman and Greek culture and
achievements has continued with me ever since.
The village of Peekskill at that time had between two and three
thousand inhabitants. Its people were nearly all Revolutionary families

who had settled there in colonial times. There had been very little
immigration either from other States or abroad; acquaintance was
universal, and in the activities of the churches there was general
co-operation among the members. Church attendance was so
unanimous that people, young or old, who failed to be in their
accustomed places on Sunday felt the disapproval of the community.
Social activities of the village were very simple, but very delightful and
healthful. There were no very rich nor very poor. Nearly every family
owned its own house or was on the way to acquire one. Misfortune of
any kind aroused common interest and sympathy. A helping hand of
neighborliness was always extended to those in trouble or distress.
Peekskill was a happy community and presented conditions of life and
living of common interest, endeavor, and sympathy not possible in
these days of restless crowds and fierce competition.
The Peekskill Academy was the dominant educational institution, and
drew students not only from the village but from a distance. It fitted
them for college, and I was a student there for about twelve years. The
academy was a character-making institution, though it lacked the
thoroughness of the New England preparatory schools. Its graduates
entering into the professions or business had an unusual record of
success in life. I do not mean that they accumulated great fortunes, but
they acquired independence and were prominent and useful citizens in
all localities where they settled.
I graduated from the Peekskill Academy in 1852. I find on the
programme of the exercises of that day, which some old student
preserved, that I was down for several original speeches, while the
other boys had mainly recitations. Apparently my teachers had decided
to develop any oratorical talent I might possess.
I entered Yale in 1852 and graduated in 1856. The college of that
period was very primitive compared with the university to which it has
grown. Our class of ninety-seven was regarded as unusually large. The
classics and mathematics, Greek and Latin, were the dominant features
of instruction. Athletics had not yet appeared, though rowing and
boat-racing came in during my term. The outstanding feature of the
institution was the literary societies: the Linonia and the Brothers of
Unity. The debates at the weekly meetings were kept up and
maintained upon a high and efficient plane. Both societies were

practically deliberative bodies and discussed with vigor the current
questions of the day. Under this training Yale sent out an unusual
number of men who became eloquent preachers, distinguished
physicians, and famous lawyers. While the majority of students now on
leaving college enter business or professions like engineering, which is
allied to business, at that time nearly every young man was destined for
the ministry, law, or medicine. My own class furnished two of the nine
judges of the Supreme Court of the United States, and a large majority
of those who were admitted to the bar attained judicial honors. It is a
singular commentary on the education of that time that the students
who won the highest honors and carried off the college prizes, which
could only be done by excelling in Latin, Greek, and mathematics,
were far outstripped in after-life by their classmates who fell below
their high standard of collegiate scholarship but were distinguished for
an all-around interest in subjects not features in the college curriculum.
My classmates, Justice David J. Brewer and Justice Henry Billings
Brown, were both eminent members of the Supreme Court of the
United States. Brewer was distinguished for the wide range of his
learning and illuminating addresses on public occasions. He was
bicentennial orator of the college and a most acceptable one. Wayne
MacVeagh, afterwards attorney-general of the United States, one of the
leaders of the bar, also one of the most brilliant orators of his time, was
in college with me, though not a classmate. Andrew D. White, whose
genius, scholarship, and organization enabled Ezra Cornell to found
Cornell University, was another of my college mates. He became one
of the most famous of our diplomats and the author of many books of
permanent value. My friendship with MacVeagh and White continued
during their lives, that is, for nearly sixty years. MacVeagh was one of
the readiest and most attractive of speakers I ever knew. He had a very
sharp and caustic wit, which made him exceedingly popular as an
after-dinner speaker and as a host in his own house. He made every
evening when he entertained, for those who were fortunate enough to
be his guests,