"Notes," Gnivri (10 Mar. 1876).
We are highly opposed to mixed colleges. We saw many young ladies of Asbury University, State University, N.W.C. Univeristy, and Franklin College, while at the Contest [an oratorical contest attracting college students from all over Indiana], and thought they appeared, generally, intelligent looking; yet they have a masculine and bold mien; they lack that mild, gentle, modest and retiring manner - - the violet modesty - - which constitutes the true nature of woman. We also found that the young gentlemen of those colleges seemed to lack the finer nature that young men should have for the gentler sex. They appeared to want the finer civilities that man should have for woman. We attribute it all to the fact of their being in their company so much. "Familiarity breeds contempt."
Right here, let us say, we think the admittance of young ladies into the preparatory department of Hanover College is a serious fault. We believe it both injurious to the college, as well as to the young ladies; besides, it is against the true principles of the college. Hanover College is for the education of young men, not for young ladies. Where, then, do they get the authority to put young ladies into the preparatory department? They may say the preparatory department is not Hanover College. But then it is a part of the college, and is under the same laws. Parents send their sons to the preparatory department to prepare for the college classes, and it does not seem right to have the professors spend the time they should give their sons on the young ladies of Hanover.
Daniel W. Fisher, A Human Life: An Autobiography with Excursuses (New York: Revell, 1909), 224-28.
At the meeting of the board in 1880, the first after
my inauguration as president, the college was opened
to women, and it has ever since been co-educational.
We first considered the question in the faculty, and we
there, with entire unanimity, voted to recommend to
the board to take this important step. I previously had
tried to acquaint myself with all that could be urged on
either side. I remember asking one of the alumni, a
man of high standing and of recognised ability, but
who was much opposed to the admission of women, to
tell me candidly and fully his objections; and he did so.
I listened attentively to all that he said ; and then I
courteously replied in substance, that what he had told
me strongly confirmed me in favour of opening our
doors to them : for if so able a man as he could offer
no stronger objections than he had done, they showed
the weakness of the negative. I could discover no sufficient reason why Hanover should refuse, and I could
see many considerations that made it desirable. My
opinion was then and still continues to be that coeducation
in the higher institutions of learning is a
question that can be wisely decided only by a careful
consideration of each particular case, under existing
conditions. This, of course, involves the assumption
that there is no sound, radical objection to the principle
involved in the association of the two sexes as students
in our colleges; and also that no rule of wisdom or
righteousness is necessarily violated if an institution
limits itself to either of the sexes. We have a good illustration
of this in the two Indiana colleges controlled
by the Presbyterians. Wabash has, in the face of
pressure, refused down to the present to admit girls,
and results seem to justify this attitude. She has drawn
to herself an increasing attendance because she is the
only college in the State that is not co-educational.
If she had in her territory a number of competitors,
taking the same position on this subject, she in all
probability would not on this basis sufficiently increase
her patronage to justify the exclusion of girls. On
the other hand, Hanover, on account of her situation,
needed to open to them in order to obtain a larger
attendance, and to provide for a want that could not
be sufficiently met in any other way. Girls have a
right to as good opportunities for higher education
as are furnished for boys; but how in any given case
this may be provided most wisely can be decided
only by a calm, broad view of conditions affecting different
institutions. One of the practical difficulties encountered
countered in co-educational colleges is that so many
girls are seeking the higher education that they tend to
become the majority of students, or at least so far to
dominate as to give tone to the entire atmosphere.
Consequently some of these institutions are limiting
the number admitted, and they do this regardless of
what would be considered adequate preparation in a
boy. For this a given college may not deserve blame ;
because otherwise the tendency would be to lose more
and more of male attendance, and to assume the character
of a girls' college. Nevertheless, this is in some
regions a very great hardship for the women. They
theoretically are entitled to as good an education as the
boys; but where are they to obtain it? Institutions,
such as Wellesley, Smith, and Vassar, conducted for
them exclusively, are now so over-crowded that in
order to obtain admission the names of candidates have
to be entered months in advance. " Annexes," such as
are maintained by Harvard and Columbia, serve
merely to care for a part of the girls that would swarm
to the parent universities, if the way were open. If
those of the smaller colleges that still exclude women,
but are not crowded with men, shall open their doors
to co-education, partial relief may thus be afforded; but it can be only partial. The problem of adequate
provision for the higher education of women looms
into view as most important and pressing.
An apprehension that causes some excellent people to
hesitate as to co-education in our colleges is that the
bringing together of young men and young women in
the familiarity of such a life may lead to attachments,
ending in marriage. No doubt, in such institutions
this does frequently occur. Yet my observation, extending
over so long a time, convinces me that "engagements"
are no more numerous than would be
made in a like period by the same persons, if not in a
co-educational institution. The parties in that case
would be different, as a rule; and they would not be so
likely to bring together young people who, by training
and similarity of tastes, are fitted to be permanently
happy in each other's society. Sometimes there are
regrettable escapades, just as there are also outside of
colleges; but they are not so frequent, and they seldom
are so serious as some people imagine. In my time at
Hanover there was one foolish and hasty marriage of
students; but even for this the college could not fairly
be held responsible. The young man resided in the
village with his mother, and had informed her of his
intention, and the young woman had just been dumped
down on us, in order to get her away from another
escapade, and without informing us of her peculiar
state of mind. There is always a possibility of worse
scandals; but their occurrence is quite as rare as on the
outside of college.
When we opened the college for women, in 1880,
the board thought it wise to signalise the occasion by
conferring the Doctorate of Laws on some woman,
who would be universally recognised as worthy of such
distinction. I took the opportunity to ascertain that
this honour would be appreciated by Maria Mitchell, so
well known as the head of the department of astronomy
at Vassar College, and it was accordingly conferred on
her. So far as I know, this was the first instance in
which in the United States the Doctorate of Laws was
given to a woman, and I could learn of only one precedent
in the world at large. The public press has since
persisted in crediting this act to Dartmouth, probably
through confusion of Hanover, N. H., the site of Dartmouth,
with the Hanover where the college that gave
the degree is located. It is noteworthy also that the
first young lady to enter the college, and to continue
until graduation, was a member of the Christian (Disciples) Church, and became a missionary sent out
by that denomination to Japan, and to the Japanese in
the Hawaiian Islands.
Calla James Harrison to Hanover College alumni, 24 Apr. 1933, Archives of Hanover College.
Honolulu, Hawaii
April 24, 1933
Hanover Alumni
Hanover, Indiana
Early on April 18, the Asama Maru berthed at Pier 7. My telephone rang, and
when I answered, a voice said, "Well, here I am at last!" It was Miss Effie
Morse, whom I remember as a tiny girl, playing somewhere near her dark-eyed,
gentle mother. In a sunny window of the Y. W. lounge we had a two-hour talk
- - of course, on Hanover and college days. As we went back to her ship, we
pushed through a crowd of lei sellers, holding strings of dismembered carnations,
dying plumerias, roses, ginger, and many other flowers with which Hawaii insists
on burdening its departing guests. Being a Maru [Japanese commercial ship]
there was also a jam of Nipponese with their friends, wishing them "Go
daiji nasai," or bon voyage. Most of them were sedately hilarious, in true
Oriental style. Some held clasped hands, while tears dropped off their noses
in a very un-Oriental but human way. As we parted at the gangplank, Miss Effie
said, "If you can't go to Hanover, why don't you write something for
the Alumni Reunion?"
. . . Following Miss Effie's suggestion, I sat down with my kaleidoscope
of memories, for it is - - ah! - - more than fifty years since I first knew
Hanover.
One September day, with a small group of other girls, I climbed the steps
of old Classic Hall. Ida Hennessey, Nannie Ralston, and others whom I do not
remember, were in the group. I was registered as a sophomore in a class of
seventeen young men. Knightly and most chivalrous were these young men to
the awkward country girl, who struggled, sometimes tearfully, over Anabasis,
Horace, and dreadful formulas that seemed to have no relation to the beautiful
curves of leaf and bough, or the radiant stars that smiled down when I laid
my tired brain to rest. Separated into its component parts, the Faculty was
easy, especially the wives. Mrs. Fisher, a gracious hostess, who knew how
to make a shy Junior or Senior "prep." feel at home; saintly Mrs. Garrett,
who cared for our spiritual welfare; Mrs. Morse, the soul of tactful hospitality;
Mrs. Young, whom we did not often see because of her young children; all of
these were lovely, cultured women. Dr. Fisher, a small but mighty man; Prof.
Morse, behind whose shaggy, gray brows was power to detect the most plausible
subterfuge, also a quiet sarcasm and humor that sent the dart home. My one
small triumph was in Professor Morse's recitation: the night before[,] there
was banquet, purely masculine. The subject was the "Precession of the
Equinoxes;" the question, "How long does it take to circle the ecliptic?"
Some of the brave ones answered, "Six months, Professor." I happened
to know and became hilariously triumphant as I answered, "26,000 years,
Professor." There was an ominous hush behind me as the Professor made some
characteristic comments. Then, there was Dr. Garrett, whose beautiful soul
shone in his face. With his gracious help given after hours, I managed to
read Homer and several cryptic Greek plays - - long since forgotten, but his
personality remains an inspiration and lovely memory. There was also Professor
Baird, scholarly and kind, who tried to make us see the beauty of Horace's
odes and Juvenal's satires. Professor Young's room was a sort of a terror.
There was a skeleton that sometimes had its arms folded and always grinned
most disconcertingly. There were test tubes, and jars full of slimy things,
and a turtle that sometimes got on the floor and walked, always toward my
sheltering skirts. There was an inferno beneath, where ill-smelling cooking
went on; it was supposed to bring forth wonderful chemical results. There
it was that Sibley Truax and I once blew up a retort or something that exploded
and burned my hand and dress. How I hated that place, especially after an
exasperating senior wrote in the college monthly, "Miss H - - said, 'Alas,
for the utter utterness of drugs!'" when I had said no such thing. Cohesively
that Faculty was an austere tribunal, whose dread sentences written on the
bulletin board made one's soul quake. Witness the Halloween pranks when the
"sportiest professor" took part disguised as a student. There was stringent
economy on the part of certain students, as to cigars and other luxuries,
for several months after. Witness also how a coterie of society favorites
were quietly asked to leave some months before our graduation. There was a
rumor that they graduated at a neighboring institution on the same date as
our own commencement.
How much I owe to that Faculty of saintly men, no pen of mine can ever tell. My Hanover diplomas have always been an open sesame to every barred door. They reposed for months in the archives of the Hawaiian Education Department. Was it possible they could not be read? At any rate, they brought the needed recognition.
In our class Fisher was easily the leader, although Tom Dawson was a close second, but dropped out before our senior year. Joe Garrett, the youngest in the class had a guileless look through his spectacles, also an uncanny knowledge of Greek roots. We were the perfect number: George Wyatt, Webb, Sibley Truax, and Charles Rushton. I have seen none of them, I believe, since Commencement Day. All were splendid men. I have never met more courteous nor kindly gentlemen.
Our commencement was a gala time. Dr. Fisher's baccalaureate sermon has clung
through the years. "Service" was his topic. "Diakonos," translated
servant, meant "through dust." He pictured a group of runners, "faint,
yet pursuing," striving to reach a goal. There were many alumni present and
fine speeches. "Character, the End of Education," impressed me. I have
forgotten the speaker but the thought remains.
We each delivered an oration, had flowers, commendations that were wine to
our thirsty, striving souls. We left with a warm aloha for our beloved alma
mater, and began our "diakonos." How many are still pursuing, I wonder.
There are beauty pictures still left in my kaleidoscope. A tangle of bare,
brown branches, tossing in a March wind against the steel grey of the river,
with a robin redbreast riding in the midst. Clumps of columbine and bloodroot
hanging on old grey rocks. A carpet of claytonia virginica and dogtooth violets
underfoot. Sweetest of all, a lone white flower -- hepatica? -- anemone? found
in late February, in a gulch's warm pocket. The campus gate clangs behind
me; across the ravine comes the "klingle, clange" of the cow bells. All
have gone and "left the world to darkness and to me."
I put away the kaleidoscope. Aloha Tower's siren shrills curfew. A big steamer
booms her whistle in the offing; she's going to Japan, trailing her plume
of black smoke.
I am still among the brown and yellow faces that I love. Yet: --
"So long THY hand has led me,
Sure it still will lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent,
Till the night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
That I have loved long since - - and lost awhile."
Calla James Harrison
Class of 1883