THE FIRST YEAR

There is a quaint belief, conceived in boredom and born out of terrific sophistication, that all Freshman classes are, as a group, alike. The numerals, the names, and the faces change, but the composite similarity is timeless. Fortunately for the world in general and for Harvard College in particular this epigrammatic obituary of the still-born hopes and illusions of youth is quite incorrect. It is assuredly a neat phrase and accompanied by a certain shrug of the shoulders and flick of the ash it assumes the proportions of a social gesture. But it is untrue--gloriously untrue.

In the first place the Class of 1931 is a new class: new things are different and therefore by perfect syllogistic deduction the Class of 1931 is different. There is a second opportunity to confound the blase by pointing out the fact that hope springs eternal in the human breast. Together these principles should satisfactorily establish the unique splendor of the incoming Freshman group in Harvard College. This once assumed and secure in its own virginity the Class may safely prepare to ascend the heighths. The trail is not too rocky, its slopes not too steep but what it is surmountable. And the Class of 1931 has an abundance of guides to whose sapient advice it will do well to listen.

Advice is of a fragile nature in that its value increases in inverse proportion to the amount offered the advisee. During this intimate interval of three days there will be much good counsel spread abroad; the College will belong to the Freshmen for this fleeting period and it is to be hoped that afterwards the Freshmen will realize that in a certain manner they belong to the College and the traditions for which it stands. Each new student will listen to words of much wisdom; he will hear many speeches; it is possible that he will grow very tired of hearing speeches. In the end, however, he will have learned--as far as it is possible to learn without actual experience--What Harvard expects of him.

What the Freshman expects of Harvard is quite another matter; and therein lies one of the few points on which it is safe to advise a thousand men without boring some or insulting others. Every Freshman is an individual--even before he is a Freshman. When he comes to Harvard he is in no way urged to yield up that individuality merely for the sake of conforming. There are either three thousand types of Harvard graduates or there is none. The Harvard type is a phantom type, its residence in Olympus or Hades, its character mythical. In four years the Freshman who now explores the cis-Charles regions will leave college with many new and changed ideas, but he will leave as much an individual as when he first entered to grow in wisdom.

Harboring ones individuality requires as infinite care as harboring a precious jewel and not the least worthy guard is self reliance. In a large group of men, such as at a college or university, there is often a species of gregarious frenzy which might be termed the herd spirit. It is the Crimson's belief that there is less of this mania evidenced at Harvard than at any other institution, but no college can be entirely free from its ravages. The preventative lies in each case with the man himself, for every man has his own means of fortifying his castle.

And so, with preliminary admonitions and salutatory counsel 1931 advanoes to his field. The Crimson, too, extends its welcome, hoping that in the wealth of greetings, official and personal, its sincerest wishes will not be entirely unnoticed. Unfortunately, mass welcomes have the resounding echo of ornate formalisms. But 1931 is of Harvard College--and the two, both of which are to be congratulated--are now one.