1
/
of
1
history-bytes
Grover Cleveland And Family At Princeton
Grover Cleveland And Family At Princeton
Regular price
$5.99 USD
Regular price
Sale price
$5.99 USD
Shipping calculated at checkout.
Quantity
Couldn't load pickup availability
Nook version of vintage magazine article originally published in 1908. Lots of great info and illustrations seldom seen in the last 100 years.
Read excerpt -
In 1896, while still President he attended the sesquicentennial celebration at Princeton. Like everyone who has seen that most beautiful of college towns, he was greatly attracted by it. The charm of the place, the life the people, all appealed to him. He bought Westlands, one of the old Stockton country places, and on his sixtieth birth¬day, March 18, 1897, moved in. Soon afterward he was elected a life trustee of the University, and, in the course of time, chairman of its committee on the graduate college. To Princeton, but especially to the development of its graduate college, he gave much thought and care and interest. He was a firm believer in Princeton, and was convinced that her in-fluence for good in the future lay not only in the under-graduate department, but especially in the opportunities given for graduate study and research. He once said to a Princeton graduate with whom he was talking, "You, who are a college man, cannot appreciate as much as I do, who am not, the benefits of a college education. I believe that post-graduate work is even, if possible, of greater importance. I pray that I may live to see our graduate college established on a firm foundation." That his hopes were almost realized is largely due to his painstaking care and hard work.
His life in Princeton was as dignified and as simple as he was himself. He made friends easily and retained them always. He was intensely human, with deep sympathy and charity for his fellow¬man. He loved "God's out of doors" and all that it contains. He did not care for exercise for its own sake, but he was a sportsman through and through. Whether it was duck-shooting or fly-fishing, he enjoyed them both with the zest of a boy. He was not expansive with strangers, but with the friends who surrounded him in later years he was a wise counselor and a delightful com¬panion.
During the last few years of his life he became a trustee for the reorganization of the Equitable Life. He felt that there was man's work to be done, as there was, and that he was doing something for the small policy-holders, the people he loved, his people, and he did it. This took him to New York two days a week. Most of the time he spent in Princeton, happy in his home, caring for Westlands, caring for the graduate college, seeing his friends, respected by all who knew of him, loved by all who knew him. His was the ideal life of a statesman in retirement. Sometimes he wrote for the magazines, sometimes he spoke in public. When in office, his public papers were often criticized by his opponents as being stilted and ponderous. Yet his style was pure and powerful. His English was almost that of the eighteenth century in its carefulness and strength.
Occasionally he uttered a phrase so direct and so powerful that it will live. His Public office is a public trust, "his" Any cause that is worth fighting for is worth fighting for to the end," his "innocuous desuetude," and his "It is a condition, not a theory, that confronts us," have become household words with the American people. His little sketch "A Defense of Fishermen" is a complete refutation of the charge that he lacked a sense of humor. In lightness of touch, in charm, in simplicity, and in humor it is delightful.
Read excerpt -
In 1896, while still President he attended the sesquicentennial celebration at Princeton. Like everyone who has seen that most beautiful of college towns, he was greatly attracted by it. The charm of the place, the life the people, all appealed to him. He bought Westlands, one of the old Stockton country places, and on his sixtieth birth¬day, March 18, 1897, moved in. Soon afterward he was elected a life trustee of the University, and, in the course of time, chairman of its committee on the graduate college. To Princeton, but especially to the development of its graduate college, he gave much thought and care and interest. He was a firm believer in Princeton, and was convinced that her in-fluence for good in the future lay not only in the under-graduate department, but especially in the opportunities given for graduate study and research. He once said to a Princeton graduate with whom he was talking, "You, who are a college man, cannot appreciate as much as I do, who am not, the benefits of a college education. I believe that post-graduate work is even, if possible, of greater importance. I pray that I may live to see our graduate college established on a firm foundation." That his hopes were almost realized is largely due to his painstaking care and hard work.
His life in Princeton was as dignified and as simple as he was himself. He made friends easily and retained them always. He was intensely human, with deep sympathy and charity for his fellow¬man. He loved "God's out of doors" and all that it contains. He did not care for exercise for its own sake, but he was a sportsman through and through. Whether it was duck-shooting or fly-fishing, he enjoyed them both with the zest of a boy. He was not expansive with strangers, but with the friends who surrounded him in later years he was a wise counselor and a delightful com¬panion.
During the last few years of his life he became a trustee for the reorganization of the Equitable Life. He felt that there was man's work to be done, as there was, and that he was doing something for the small policy-holders, the people he loved, his people, and he did it. This took him to New York two days a week. Most of the time he spent in Princeton, happy in his home, caring for Westlands, caring for the graduate college, seeing his friends, respected by all who knew of him, loved by all who knew him. His was the ideal life of a statesman in retirement. Sometimes he wrote for the magazines, sometimes he spoke in public. When in office, his public papers were often criticized by his opponents as being stilted and ponderous. Yet his style was pure and powerful. His English was almost that of the eighteenth century in its carefulness and strength.
Occasionally he uttered a phrase so direct and so powerful that it will live. His Public office is a public trust, "his" Any cause that is worth fighting for is worth fighting for to the end," his "innocuous desuetude," and his "It is a condition, not a theory, that confronts us," have become household words with the American people. His little sketch "A Defense of Fishermen" is a complete refutation of the charge that he lacked a sense of humor. In lightness of touch, in charm, in simplicity, and in humor it is delightful.
Share
