University of Notre Dame

The Story of Notre Dame
Notre Dame -- One Hundred Years / by Arthur J. Hope, C.S.C.

Chapter XVI

AFTER a first-rate faculty, the most necessary element of a university is its library. In the early days at Notre Dame there was not much call for a library because by far the majority of its students were "preps." Father Lemonnier, President from 1872 to 1874, seems to have been the first to recognize the importance of a library. Until 1873, there was no general library for the students' use. Each of the numerous literary societies on the campus had its own little collection, and several of the different departments of the University had modest accumulations of textual works. If a student wanted to read something outside of his textbooks, he generally asked his professor for one of his own books and it was gladly loaned to the boy.

It was Father Lemonnier who had the happy idea of gathering all these separate collections into one general library and of enriching this as much as the University finances and the charity of benefactors would permit.[1] He called it the Circulating Library. For the most part, these books were made up of the English classics. When Father Lemonnier died in 1874, the students, prompted by their affection for the deceased president, asked that the name be changed to the Lemonnier Library. It was a happy and an appropriate gesture, honoring the man who had brought the library into existence. With a keen eye for choosing the right man for the right position, Father Lemonnier, before his death, appointed Professor James F. Edwards to take charge.

"Jimmie" Edwards was twenty-four years old at that time. He was from Toledo, Ohio, and had come to Notre Dame when but a lad of ten years.[2] He lived to pass the next fifty years at Notre Dame as professor of history, head of the Lemonnier Library, and founder of Bishops' Memorial Hall. He had a passion for collecting books, documents, and objects of historical interest. He spent his vacations constantly traveling from one end of the country to the other, hunting out, collecting, begging, and buying for the Library and for the Memorial Hall.

By 1879, Edwards had collected about ten thousand volumes. Then the morning of April 13, 1879, he saw them all disappear in flames and smoke. Besides the volumes in the library, various professors and priests lost upwards of twenty thousand books of their own. This heart-breaking blow might well have discouraged a less stout-hearted man. Edwards was about twenty-nine at this time, and although the loss of documents and of manuscripts and rare books was irreparable, the fire was to him more a challenge than a defeat. In replacing the losses, Edwards knew he would have to rely more on the charity of his friends than on University funds. He had lots of friends, and hardly a week passed without a sizable list of gifts being, announced in the pages of the Scholastic. Book publishers also made substantial donations to help him get a start.

When the new Main Building was erected, Edwards spoke to Father Corby about getting. the whole of the third floor of the front projection for his Lemonnier Library. Father Corby consented. This room, one hundred and thirty feet by fifty, had shelves along the walls from floor to roof, with a gallery around the entire space permitting access to all books without using ladders. Glass cases displayed rare manuscripts or curios which Edwards had collected.

Edwards was doing such a fine job of collecting books and documents free of charge that, no doubt, the University thought he needed no special funds. But Father Walsh, who shared Edwards' enthusiasm for books) secured from the Board of Trustees in 1882 a grant of five hundred dollars. This sum seems very small indeed, but it was the beginning of a regular annual budget for building up the Library.

Edwards was very temperamental. There were some "precious" things about his character. He had moments of deep despair, as he had days, also, of terrific elation. In 1889 Edwards offered the first in a long series of resignations.[3] He felt that his work was not appreciated; someone was obstructing his plans. Father Walsh was a man of goodness and tact, and he refused to accept Edwards' resignation. He said to him: "Jimmie, you ought to take a year off. You ought to travel. I should like very much to see you go to Europe. You will see new things there. You will come back refreshed and able to start again." Edwards was delighted and went off to Europe on a collector's spree.

Edwards was one of the first to realize the historical value of the episcopal archives in America. Many of the bishops of the time were too busy with everyday problems of building churches and schools to pay much attention to the correspondence of their predecessors and the missionaries of the Northwest. Edwards wanted to gather all these manuscripts at Notre Dame and to make the University the center of a great collection of all materials on American Catholic Church history.[4] Although it was impossible to convert every bishop to his view -- for many had a historical sense which prompted them to keep what they had -- Edwards was astonishingly successful.

Edwards, while still a student, had conceived the idea of a Bishops' Memorial Hall as a national monument to the American hierarchy. The principal feature of the hall was a collection of portraits of all the American bishops, past and present. To gather a complete collection was a tremendous undertaking Many of the early bishops were so poor that sitting for portraits was a luxury with which they had easily dispensed. A good number of them lived before the development of photography. Others had short episcopates and were soon forgotten, or their belongings were lost or scattered. But the collector's instinct was in Edwards' blood. It not only sought perfection but inspired ingenuity. The tireless energy of Edwards was worthy of the task, and over the years he succeeded in obtaining at least some meager record of every bishop. Portraits, crayons, engravings, photographs, daguerrotypes, miniatures in ivory, busts or death masks -- everything which bore a likeness of an American bishop or archbishop was hunted out. When he failed to get a portrait, he had one made from one or more of his other sources. Gregori was a great help to him in this, making many of the portraits from the materials furnished by Edwards. The unique collection organized by Edwards was hung on the walls of the large cruciform gallery of the Main Building. Supplementing the collection of portraits was a large collection of episcopal and clerical souvenirs: autographed letters, books, pamphlets and pastorals published by them, histories and biographies of the American clergy. Glass cabinets extending for two hundred feet in length displayed mitres, crosiers, episcopal rings, pectoral crosses. This proved to be one of the principal show places of the campus and was a worthy monument to the extraordinary collector who assembled it.

When the present library was built in 1916, the books, journals and archives were housed in the new building, but the Bishops' Memorial collection had to be boxed and stored pending the day when a fitting museum would be built. At present, scores of portraits hang in the two principal dining rooms of the college refectory.

Besides the historical collection of Edwards, the University had from the beginning sought to develop a museum of natural sciences. Prior to the time of Edwards, this museum was unusually large for such a small college. At an early date (1845), it was given an important start with the acquisition of the collection of Louis Cavalli, who lived in Detroit.[5] Some years later the rich herbarium of Monsieur and Madame Cauvin, noted French botanists, was acquired. This collection of 4000 specimens had been the result of over twenty years of collecting in the British Isles and Norway.[6]

It was under the direction of Father Joseph Carrier, however, that the museum received its first important growth. This young priest, ordained in 1861, had the collector's instinct for scientific objects. His early efforts were, however, interrupted by the Civil War, when he was sent as chaplain to the Army before Vicksburg. A full year after the war, he was sent to France on business for the University and the Congregation. During his travels he had permission to buy apparatus for the physics and chemistry laboratories, books and objects for the museum of natural history. On his return from Paris, he was made librarian, curator of the museum, and professor of physics and chemistry, a combination of roles which was not rare at a time when the University income was very meager.

Father Carrier organized courses in botany and established two botanical gardens, the first to the west of the old Church in 1867, and a second, much larger and more permanent, at the southeast end of St. Joseph's Lake. During his relatively short period in charge of the museum -- he was made President of St. Mary's College, Galveston, Texas, in 1874 -- he added several thousand specimens to the collection of minerals and of zoological and botanical specimens. In 1869 Doctor Boyd's large collection of skeletons was acquired, and the minerals, fossils, fauna collected by J. W. Veasey in Colorado, valued at six thousand dollars, were purchased by Notre Dame in 1878.[7] About the same time a collection of New Zealand plants, particularly ferns, was given to the museum by a missionary in that far-off island, Father S. Barthos.[8] When Father Carrier took up his new position in Texas, the museum was transferred to the care of Father John A. Zahm. But like the early collection of Edwards, all of these precious treasures of science were lost in the conflagration of 1879, except for a small collection of specimens which were not in the building at the time. The destruction of the herbarium, containing over eight thousand distinct species of plants, which Carrier called one of the most precious and complete to be found in America,[9] was surely the most important loss to the museum. And Zahm, like Edwards and Sorin, immediately set to work to build up again an even greater collection than that which had been lost. Carrier himself, who passed his last years at St. Laurent College, near Montreal, and who never lost his enthusiasm for collecting, gave his second collection, composed of Canadian plants, to Notre Dame after presenting it, on exposition, at the Chicago World's Fair in 1893.[10] A substantial gain was likewise made when the University procured the collection of four thousand specimens of W. E. Calkins, of Chicago, in 1887.[11]

In a world of scientfic miracles, the student of today is rather callous to the new miracles which are developed every year. But in the latter part of the nineteenth century, the new wonders produced excitement and awe. College life was gradually transformed as the daily inconveniences of that time gave way to twentieth century comforts. Each step brought forth expressions of pride and appreciation.

The question of installing a telegraph office on the campus came up before the local Council as far back as 1858.[12] From the short summary of the discussion which took place, the principal objection seems to have been that of the propriety of having it. No decision was taken, and the installation was delayed until 1873,[13] by which time all were in favor of it. A few years later, in 1878, telephone connections were made between South Bend and Notre Dame. It proved to be one of the social events of the season, for "the afternoon of that day music sung at either place was heard at the other, and large numbers of people assembled at the College and in the city to witness the wonderful results of modern science. Several songs were sung by the ladies from the Saint Mary's Academy and listened to by an audience in South Bend. On Friday, April 6, arrangements were made between Mr. Brown, manager of the Western Union Telegraph Company, and parties at the college, and a program was made out and followed as closely as could be expected. The senior orchestra gave several selections, violin and cornet, guitar, and flute solos. The instruments worked admirably and the music was listened to by a large audience, chiefly ladies."[14] in return some gentleman of South Bend presented cornet solos and songs. Compliments were passed back and forth between Notre Dame and South Bend. The students amused themselves similarly after setting up telephone connections between the Main Building and the Music Hall, and between the Main Building and the Printing Office.[15]

Of more general convenience to all, however, was the change in the lighting system. Until 1885 gasoline lamps had been the only source of artificial light in the buildings. When coal-gas lights came into use, the University planned to install them for, "although gasoline gives a nice, mild light, yet the experience of the past few years has been attended with many complaints, particularly because of the unsteady, variable nature of the light with its accompanying discomforts in reading and study."[16] The University planned to have its own gas works in the rear of the College with a capacity of 15,000 cubic feet. The project, however, fell through when the contractors failed to keep their contract.[17] This ultimately was no disappointment but rather "a source of pleasure to the authorities" because of the decision to introduce instead "the incandescent electric light" just developed by Edison.[18] The first lights were installed in the corridors and study halls of the Main Building in September, 1885. The next month the crown on the statue of Our Lady on the Dome and the crescent at her feet were illuminated. So successful were the first lights that Father Walsh arranged to have nearly all the buildings lighted with electricity. The Edison Electric Light Company donated the dynamo, and the Armington and Sims Company gave the high-speed, low-pressure engine which supplied the power. The new electric light was "in every way a cleaner, brighter, and steadier illuminant than anything we have yet seen, and by reason of its brightness and absolute steadiness it is as easy on the eyes as sunlight itself."[19] Almost equally wonderful as the light itself was its adaptability: "the lamps -- from two to six in a room -- are each suspended from the ceiling by two handsome, flexible, silk-covered wires, twisted together in the form of a cord, which supply the current. This arrangement allows a lamp to be brought to almost any position, thus securing the best effect in demonstration."[20]

Before Edison had produced his incandescent lamp, several scientists in the seventies had produced good arc lights. At Notre Dame Father Zahm proposed lighting the grounds of the University with arc lights. It was one of those proposals which required success before being applauded. It was a real novelty when Zahm succeeded in October, 1881.[21] For the student, it meant that he could take his recreation outside after supper. The Light Guards of Colonel Elmer Otis celebrated the occasion with a drill under the artificial lights.

It seems probable that Notre Dame was the first American college to have electric lights, if we can believe the claims of the New York Electrical Review. In March, 1887, a student of Bowdoin College wrote to the Review that Bowdoin was going to be the first college in America to be lighted by electricity. In reply, the Review pointed out that the arc light had been in use at Notre Dame since 1881 to illuminate the recreation grounds and that the incandescent lamp had been in use since 1885.[22]

There were no important changes in the disciplinary regulations under Father Walsh. The spirit of strict discipline, part of Notre Dame's tradition which had been in force from the beginning, was maintained. This does not mean that it was universally relished by the student body. Every now and then Father Walsh found himself obliged to crack the disciplinary whip in the name of order. Students were especially restive under the regulation which forbade them to go to town without permission or without a prefect as chaperon. As Sorin put it, "There should be but one voice against going to town and its prolific, sad result."[23]

Smoking had become a privilege of seniors if they had permission from their parents. An occasional article in the Scholastic, however, pointed out the harmful effect which smoking produced on health.

Standing ads were run in all the local papers containing the following information: "I hereby give notice that I will prosecute to the full extent of the law any who are found guilty of selling or giving liquor to the students of this institution or furnishing it to them in any way. Signed, Thomas Walsh, C.S.C." The regularity of these ads, started during the Presidency of Lemonnier, suggests that the rule was frequently honored in the breach. I myself have seen many letters written either by the Mayor of South Bend or the Chief of Police, in which he announces to Father Walsh the fact that so-and-so has been given a fine for violating this rule. On another occasion a warning was published to young ladies "to cease prowling about the University grounds, especially Sunday afternoon and evening." Their names were known, it was said, and if they did not have the sense of propriety to remain away, the University threatened to publish the names of the offenders.[24]

A memorable infraction of the rule against going to town without permission and drinking occurred in October of 1890. One Saturday afternoon thirty-two boys, mostly from the Preparatory Department, decided to spend the evening in South Bend. They did not have permission, which certainly would have been refused if asked. Under cover of darkness, they slipped away from the campus to the nearby town. When the evening's fun was over at a late hour, two of the group had a real problem trying to find the campus, due to the varied routes suggested by the spirits they had consumed so joyously in town. When the faculty learned of the escapade, it held a special meeting the next day, Sunday, and decided to expel the two who had become drunk and to impose milder penalties on the others. The thirty-two culprits were kept in suspense all day Sunday. In the evening Father Walsh assembled them to announce the verdict. The thirty who were to receive the milder punishment, believing that there was strength in numbers -- there had been an article in the Scholastic of the day before called "Strength in Union" -- or perhaps feeling that the two expelled students were not entirely to blame for what happened, protested to Father Walsh and said all should receive the same penalty or they would all leave in sympathetic protest. They were immediately faced with the problem of eating their own words, for Father Walsh told them that they could all go. Monday morning they found their trunks packed and carriages waiting to take them to South Bend. The sorry-looking lot went, most of them staying at the Oliver House in town because they had insufficient funds to carry them to their homes. Father Walsh summed up his attitude in an interview with a local reporter when he said, "It is better to have a small attendance at the University with good discipline than a large attendance without it. The rules will be preserved at any cost."[25]

This incident received wide publicity in spite of the efforts to prevent it and brought a number of letters and telegrams of comment to the President from ecclesiastical dignitaries and heads of institutions. The Scholastic published one "expressive of the sentiments of the others:" "Stand by your guns. Take not one of them back!"[26] The President of Northwestern University congratulated Father Walsh with these words: "You are the first college president to take so bold a stand for law and order. The college presidents of the country are with you to the end."[27]

To curb the abuse of drinking has been a university problem ever since universities were founded in the Middle Ages. The first charter issued to the University of Paris at the end of the twelfth century by Philip Augustus was the result of a student brawl that grew from a tavern episode. At Notre Dame the problem has existed almost from the beginning and has been dealt with in two ways -- by punishing offenders, and by trying to educate the students not to over-indulge. Temperance societies existed from the earliest years. At first inspired by the popular temperance movement fostered in Ireland and in America by the Irish apostle of temperance, Father Matthew, Sorin invited him to come to Notre Dame in 1851, but an attack of paralysis obliged Father Matthew to cancel the engagement and to return afterwards to Ireland..

The Total Abstinence Society was organized among the students at Notre Dame early in the seventies, and Notre Dame was the first Catholic college to have one. It reached its highest development in the eighties and the nineties. For Father Walsh, the society was not simply one of those good organizations you wished well. It was one of the passions of his life and he devoted much of his time developing it at Notre Dame and elsewhere.

Maurice Francis Egan writes: "Dr. Walsh was a total abstainer and I was rather amused when he said that if whiskey could be publicly condemned by the authorities of the Catholic Church, the progress of the Church would be endless in this world. Having a great sense of humor, he has great tolerance, but he always declared that if the Jews had drunk whiskey, Our Lord would never have performed the miracle at Cana. But then, as some of his Irish subjects often said, he was, unfortunately, half French!"[28]

In August of 1886, the sixteenth annual convention of the Catholic Total Abstinence Union of America met at Notre Dame. Nearly seven hundred delegates from fifteen states assembled under the direction of Archbishop Elder of Cincinnati and Archbishop Ireland of St. Paul to encourage the work which had recently been approved by the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore.[29] The meeting at Notre Dame was a tribute to Father Walsh and his active interest in the Union. For outside of the University he was frequently a speaker in behalf of this cause.

The nineteenth century stress upon politeness among the students was characteristic of the times and appropriate to the youth of the student body. Encouraged by the French background of the University, a training in politeness was part of the education of Christian gentlemen which the University sought to bring to its students. Although it may come as something of a shock to modern students of the University familiar with the stricter regulations of old, dancing was very much in vogue. In fact, it was taught by one of the Professors of the faculty) Mr. Ivers, or by a dancing teacher from South Bend. In typically staid language the South Bend Register expressed its appreciation of the art: "Those who have not seen the 'Stag' have missed the most novel feature of diversion at the University. There is something rude and uncouth about the term 'Stag' associated with beer, brawls, and blood. It recalls reminiscences of the mining camps and cowboy societies, but when applied to Notre Dame the reality is different. The best orchestra that can be obtained furnishes the inspiration for flying feet and one sees how gentlemen dance with gentlemen without shocking the proprieties or violating the rules of decorum. It is at once diversion and an exercise in physical grace; and the young gentlemen enter into the spirit of it with apparently as much ardor and enjoyment as though doing the graceful to the fairer sex."[30]

But the curricular and the national development of Notre Dame during the presidency of Father Walsh were sufficient of themselves to merit for him an outstanding rank among University presidents. He was constantly seeking new ways of improving the life of the University. It had been a custom of long standing for members of the faculty to give public lectures to the students on a variety of subjects. While approving the idea, Father Walsh considered that an even greater interest would be stimulated by having visiting lecturers. New names, new personalities, new outlooks could not fail to make a greater appeal to the students already so familiar with the virtues and foibles of the teachers they saw every day. This new departure was made in 1883.[31] The first lecture by an outsider was on the Spanish Inquisition. It was given by Bishop Dwenger, of Fort Wayne. He was followed by Archbishop Spalding, the Honorable Daniel E. Doherty, and a host of other intellectual celebrities of the time.

The founding of the Laetare Medal also belongs to this period. One evening a great many of the priests and members of the faculty were taking their recreation on the front porch of the Main Building. The conversation turned to matters affecting the interests of religion and the duties of educators. Someone mentioned that he thought the members of the hierarchy did not sufficiently encourage or direct the work of the laity. Another objected, maintaining that laymen were primarily at fault and that "whatever backwardness the laity had shown in the matter was mainly attributable to their own indifference or lack of invigorating zeal." Their sluggishness resulted "in compromise with systems and tendencies at variance with true religious sentiment and sound moral principles." At this point Professor James Edwards spoke up to suggest that the University might take the initiative in showing appreciation for what is done for "faith, morals, education, and good citizenship" by awarding a medal annually to some outstanding American Catholic layman. The idea was quickly appreciated by Father Walsh and the faculty, although some seemed to think that there might be a dearth of worthy candidates for the medal. There were a number of Catholic schools and colleges and though they might have large enrollments for the period, most of their enrollment seemed to be concentrated in the preparatory department. Relatively few Catholics were graduated from Catholic colleges, and it was largely from this group, it was felt, that candidates for the proposed medal should be expected. But in spite of the misgivings of some, the idea was adopted.[32]

For centuries it has been the custom of the Holy See to award, on Laetare Sunday, to some outstanding royal personality, the Golden Rose. Father Walsh, adapting that idea to our own national scene, determined that on Lastare Sunday of each succeeding year some outstanding Catholic, a citizen of the United States, man or woman, should be honored by the University of Notre Dame. Instead of a rose, a gold medal was to be given. John Gilmary Shea, the noted historian of the Catholic Church in America, was the first recipient. The records of that time indicate that had he been still alive, the award would have been made first to Orestes A. Brownson.

In 1884 the Laetare Medal recognized the greatest American Catholic architect of the first half of the nineteenth century in the person of Patrick Keely, "who more than any other changed the style of ecclesiastical structures and modified architectural taste in this country."[33] The first of twelve women to be honored was Eliza Allen Starr, the art critic and lecturer, whose contagious enthusiasm did so much to develop the appreciation of art in America. Since those early years the committees on awards have chosen men and women in the most varied fields: masters of military science like General John Newton, General Rosecrans, and Admiral William S. Benson; men of science, like Dr. Thomas Addis Emmett, the surgeon, Dr. John B. Murphy, Dr. Lawrence Flick, Dr. Stephen Maher, whose work on consumption saved so many lives; lawyers like Edward Douglas White, Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, Bourke Cochran of New York and Charles J. Bonaparte; statesmen like Edward Nash Hurley, head of the U. S. Shipping Board during the first World War, Alfred E. Smith, ex-governor of New York; scholars like Henry F. Brownson, the son of Orestes Brownson, Charles Heberman, the guiding spirit of the struggle to produce the Catholic Encyclopedia; artists like Augustine Daly and the Shakespearean actress Margaret Anglin; journalists like Patrick Donahoe of the Boston Pilot and editor of Donahoe's Magazine, and William J. Onahan of Chicago; writers like Agnes Repplier, Anna Hanson Dorsey, and Helen White.

Three of Notre Dame's faculty have been honored with the Laetare Medal: Timothy E. Howard, eminent jurist; Maurice Francis Egan, well known literary critic and U. S. Minister to Denmark; and Doctor James Monaghan, lecturer and economist. For a great many years there was a mystery connected with the fact that the medal was apparently not conferred in 1887. As a matter of fact, the medal actually was conferred but the announcement of the recipient's name was withheld. The story is this: Edward Preuss was notified by the University in 1887 that the award was to go to him. Mr. Preuss immediately refused, giving as his reason the fact that before he had become a Catholic, he had made a prolonged and bitter attack on the Church. After his reception into the Church, Mr. Preuss determined that never would he accept any honor or distinction that might come to him for his efforts in the advancement of the Catholic religion. Therefore he begged the University to give the award to someone else. Father Walsh, sensible of the modesty of Mr. Preuss, determined to confer the award anyway but to withhold the name of the recipient. It was only after the death of Mr. Preuss many years later that his name appears as the recipient of the medal for 1887.[34]

The physical and academic struggles of the University after the great fire of 1879 had helped to give the University a national reputation. This reputation had been notably increased by the outstanding work of Father John A. Zahm and his brother Albert, Maurice Francis Egan, and James Edwards. The Ave Maria, published at Notre Dame and ably edited by Father Hudson, had also served to make known the University. The Bishops of the Middle West in particular frequently visited Notre Dame and did not fail to appreciate the work achieved and the objectives sought. The long, up-hill fight for existence itself through periods of national depression and the great difficulty experienced through the almost total destruction of the buildings by fire had won the admiration and respect even of those who were indifferent or hostile. The patriarchal figure of Father Sorin who had founded and carried on the struggle, guiding the destinies not only of the University but of the whole religious community with its houses, schools, and colleges in America, Canada, and France, and its missions in Guadeloupe and India, won rightful recognition. His frequent trips to France and Italy -- he made more than fifty crossings of the Atlantic on community business -- had won for Father Sorin many friends among the hierarchy. He knew well Pius IX, and Leo XIII, who valued highly his knowledge of ecclesiastical affairs.

In America, too, his prestige and wisdom made itself felt frequently in a quiet way, for his long experience had won wide respect and made lifelong friends. In 1882 he was invited to the Provincial Council in Cincinnati and two years later he attended the Plenary Council in Baltimore.

The towering position of Father Sorin was fully recognized on the occasion of his golden jubilee in 1888. Two celebrations were held, one for the student body on May 27th, and the second for the public, on August 15th. The first, arranged by Father Zahm, acting President in the absence of Father Walsh who was in Europe and unable to return for the first celebration, marked the fiftieth anniversary of Father Sorin's first Mass. The student celebration began on Saturday afternoon, May 26th, with a reception in Washington Hall. It comprised a musical entertainment and congratulatory speeches by students representing each of the departments.

In the evening after supper a band concert was given, punctuated with artillery salutes, in front of the Main Building. While Sorin and the faculty viewed the celebration from the porch, a handsome open barouche drawn by two coal-black steeds emerged from the shady avenue leading to the University. Surrounded by the students, Professor John Ewing made a presentation speech in behalf of the students, as well as the Alumni and members of the faculty who had contributed. "After several trials had been made, and it was proved, to the satisfaction of all, that docility as well as fleetness was a quality of the horses," Fathers Sorin, Zahm, and Corby, and Professor Edwards climbed into the carriage and drove off amidst student cheers. When dusk gave way to darkness the campus was illuminated with Chinese lanterns hanging in the trees and around the fountain while the facade of the Main Building was draped with flags and banners. "And out of every window of the massive pile -- from spacious study halls, lecture, class, and private rooms, from roomy libraries in the halls -- there beamed the noon-day brilliancy of the Edison light." The gaily colored buildings and grounds were the background for a magnificent display of fireworks.[35]

The celebration continued next Trinity Sunday with a solemn High Mass sung by Father Sorin whose deep and vigorous voice seemed to deny that he was in his seventy-fifth year. The sermon on the life and work of Sorin was preached by Father Corby. After Mass, Father Sorin, in a ceremony shortened by the threat of rain, blessed the cornerstone of the hall which was to receive his name. At noon a copious French dinner was followed by a series of toasts -- to the Pope, to Father Sorin, to America, and to Alma Mater -- proposed by a senior, James A. Burns, who was later to become a president of the University and a provincial of the Congregation. Father Zahm answered the toast to Father Sorin and paid tribute to the enthusiasm and faith which had permitted Sorin to achieve so much: "It is because he has been able to communicate his enthusiasm to others and carry along with them that he has been able to accomplish what otherwise would have been simply impossible. It is because he has always retained his youthful ardors; because he has always been buoyed up by a hope that has never faltered; because he has known how to surmount the many obstacles that obstructed his path; because he has been able to overcome the opposition that would restrain his high aspirations that he is today able to contemplate . . . what can be accomplished by one who, like our venerable founder, has placed his faith and confidence in God and in the Queen of Heaven whom he always so faithfully and chivalrously served."[36] The student celebration ended on Monday with a boat race on St. Joseph's Lake in the morning between the crews of the Evangeline and the Minnehaha, followed in the afternoon by a competitive drill between companies A and B of Hoynes' Light Guards.

The principal jubilee celebration was held in August.[37] Once again the grounds were colorfully decorated. Arches were erected at different points on the campus, adorned with American, Papal, and Notre Dame colors. At the main gate which was then just in front of the present statue of Father Sorin, a log cabin was built -- a reminder of all that was visible at Notre Dame forty-six years before when Father Sorin first came to it. In front of the Church a canopied double arch was built, decorated with the papal colors and golden roses. In front of the steps of the Main Building there was an evergreen arch surmounted by a Cross and a Mitre with the motto "Welcome -- 1838-1888." The facade of the Main Building was draped with bunting while hundreds of American flags fluttered from its windows and those of the other buildings. Notre Dame Avenue, leading to the University, was decorated with arches flying the Papal and American colors.

The most distinguished guest of the occasion was Cardinal Gibbons. He was expected to arrive in the late afternoon of Tuesday, August 14th. Faculty, students, and friends gathered on the campus to greet him. Ahead of each carriage approaching the grounds spread the word that this was the Cardinal's carriage. The Cardinal, however, had been delayed several hours by the funeral of General Philip Sheridan. Until eight o'clock the rumors of his approach were false. The first to be mistaken for the Cardinal was Archbishop Ireland of St. Paul and then Bishop Gilmour of Cleveland. Finally, however, there could be no mistake. A large escort attended by the band came up the avenue followed by the Ancient Order of Hibernians. Then came the local Polish Lancers. At last came Father Sorin's Jubilee Carriage with Cardinal Gibbons and Father Corby. From the station, where bands and crowds had awaited him, all along the avenues of South Bend through which the procession passed, hundreds lined the streets. The campus at dusk, with its gay colors, lanterns, and electric lights, presented a rare and exciting scene. As the carriage and escort approached the Main Building, cheers of applause from the hundreds of anxious people filled the air while the big bell and the chimes of the Church rang out a joyous welcome. As he alighted at the Main Building, His Eminence found many members of the American Hierarchy waiting to greet him. Archbishop Ireland of St. Paul and Archbishop Elder of Cincinnati were first to receive him. Among the others were Bishops Dwenger of Fort Wayne, Burke of Cheyenne, Spalding of Peoria, Ryan of Alton, Jansen of Belleville, Ryan of Buffalo, Watterson of Columbus, Gilmour of Cleveland, Phelan of Pittsburgh, Richter of Grand Rapids, Keane of Richmond. It was truly a notable group which was present to honor the Cardinal and Father Sorin. After an informal exchange of greeting, Father Walsh read to His Eminence a Latin address of welcome from Notre Dame. The travelling and duties of the past few days having greatly tired the Cardinal, he was soon led into the building for a much-needed rest.

The ceremonies of the morning of the fifteenth began at six o'clock with the consecration of the new Church of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart by Bishop Dwenger assisted by Fathers French and Coleman, as deacon and sub-deacon. The ceremony, closed to the public, continued until nine o'clock. Then Bishop Maurice Burke of Cheyenne blessed the mammoth seven-ton bell and named it St. Anthony of Padua.[38]

At nine-thirty the doors of the Church were opened to the public. A large procession of uniformed Catholic societies -- Ancient Order of Hibernians, Knights of St. Casimir, and the St. Hedwige Society -- had marched out to the University, accompanied by three bands. Soon these organizations and other hundreds of people filled the Church for the low Mass, said by Father Sorin. Leo XIII, had granted a plenary indulgence to all who assisted at this Jubilee Mass. Shortly after Mass, a procession of acolytes, priests, and prelates escorted Cardinal Gibbons to the Church where he celebrated at a Solemn Mass. The music was Haydn's Third, sung by the choir of the Jesuit Church of Chicago.

The sermon, delivered by Archbishop Ireland, traced the growth of the Church in America and the part Father Sorin had played in it. It was a fine tribute to the labor, devotion, and patriotism of one who had done so much with so little.[39] The High Mass ended at twelve-thirty. At one o'clock a French dinner was served in the two refectories on the ground floor of the Main Building, followed by toasts and tributes to Father Sorin. The toasts were proposed with water, for neither wine nor liquor was served at this "French" banquet. It was no doubt an opportune concession to the spirit of the Catholic Total Abstinence Society which both Bishops and University were fostering at the time.

At four-thirty the several University buildings were blessed by Bishop Watterson and placed under the special protection of Our Lady. Then from the steps of the Main Building, Archbishop Ireland delivered an address on Christian Education. Cardinal Gibbons followed with a short expression of tribute to Father Sorin's work. The Solemn Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament given by Bishop Watterson closed the religious ceremonies for the day. After supper, in the early evening, Bishop Keane of Richmond rose and extended to His Eminence the pallium which had been brought from Rome for Archbishop Ireland. The Cardinal bestowed it on the new, first archbishop of St. Paul whose recent appointment was thus made official. Archbishop Ireland graciously responded with a short address promising even greater effort on his part in the cause of the Church.

Bishop Keane, recently appointed Rector of the new Catholic University of America, took this occasion to extol the career of Archbishop Ireland and to give him the chief credit for the growth of the Catholic University of America. "He has been," he said, "the strong right arm of the movement for the establishment of the Catholic University. If it has surmounted its first great difficulties . . . the credit is above all due to the indomitable energy and push and resolution of Archbishop Ireland." He was able to say, too, that both Father Sorin and Father Walsh had earlier in the day expressed the desire to make Notre Dame an auxiliary to the new University and that they would send their best students to it for their graduate studies. The close relationship between the two schools is evidenced by the fact that Bishop Keane remained at Notre Dame for a month after the Jubilee composing the statutes for the new Catholic University and profiting by the experience of one whom he regarded as a great educator and host, Father Sorin. The original draft of the statutes remains as a treasure in the Notre Dame Archives. Father Walsh concluded the speeches of the day with a few remarks of gratitude to all who bad come and who had helped to make it such a successful occasion. The evening supper was followed by a display of fireworks and a concert. It had been a long day of celebrating, replete with activity for all. It was the greatest celebration in the history of the University up to that time and expressed well the appreciation of the lifelong labor of the one in whose honor it had been given.

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