JANE LATHROP STANFORD 159 



thread, but that thread the greatest thing in the world, the love of a 

 good woman. If for an instant in all these years this good woman 

 had wavered in her purposes, if for a moment she had yielded to fear or 

 even to the pressure of worldly wisdom, you and I would not have been 

 here to-day. The strain, the agony, was all hers, and hers the final vic- 

 tory. And so any account of these years must take the form of eulogy. 

 Eulogy, in its old Greek meaning is speaking well, and my every word 

 to-day must be a word of praise. It is proper, too, that I should speak 

 these words, and even that I should give this history from my own 

 standpoint, because there were few besides myself who knew the facts 

 in those days. Most of these facts even it is well for all of us to for- 

 get. For the rest, the facts in issue will appear only as needed for the 

 background, before which we may see the figure of Mrs. Stanford. 



I first saw the Governor and Mrs. Stanford at Bloomington, Indi- 

 ana, in March, 1891. At that time, Governor Stanford, under the 

 advice of Andrew D. White, the President of Cornell, asked me to come 

 to California to take charge of the new institution which he was soon 

 to open. He told me the story of their son, of their buried hopes, of 

 their days and nights of sorrow, and of how he had once awakened 

 from a troubled night with these words on his lips : " The children of 

 California shall be my children." He told me the extent of his prop- 

 erty and of his purposes in its use. He hoped to build a university of 

 the highest order, one which should give the best of teaching in all its 

 departments, one which should be the center of invention and research, 

 giving to each student the secret of success in life. No cost was to 

 be spared, no pains to be avoided, in bringing this university to the 

 highest possible effectiveness. 



In all this Mrs. Stanford was most deeply interested, supporting his 

 purposes, guarding his strength, alert at every point, and always in the 

 fullest sympathy. 



Mr. Stanford explained that thus far only buildings and land had 

 been given, but that practically the whole of the common estate would 

 go in time to the university, when the founders had passed away. If 

 he should himself survive, the gift would be his and hers jointly, though 

 the final giving would be left to him. If the wife should survive, the 

 property would be hers, and in her hands would lie the final joy of 

 giving. Mr. Stanford gave his reason for not turning over the prop- 

 erty at once, for this might leave his wife no controlling part in the 

 future. It was not his wish that she should sit idly by while others 

 should create the university. So long as she lived, it was his wish that 

 the building of the university should be her work. 



This attitude of chivalry in all this needs this word of explanation, 

 for it shaped the whole future history of the university endowment. It 

 was the source of some of the embarrassments which followed, and per- 

 haps as well of the final success. 



