The Journal of San Diego History
SAN DIEGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY QUARTERLY
Spring 1984, Volume 30, Number 2
Thomas L. Scharf, Managing Editor
By Thomas W. Mitchell
The Bishop’s School in La Jolla is a college preparatory school founded in 1909 by Joseph Horsfall Johnson, the first bishop of the Los Angeles Diocese of the Episcopal Church. Almost from its inception it has ranked as one of the outstanding schools of its kind on the Pacific Coast. It started in San Diego as a day school for girls and until 1915 occupied a beautiful, specially designed building by architect Irving Gill which still stands near First and Redwood. A second campus with boarding facilities opened in La Jolla in 1910. Ellen and Virginia Scripps were benefactors of the school which now has 500 boys and girls in grades seven through twelve, it having become coeducational in 1971. The following essay commemorates the schools diamond jubilee of seventy-five years since its founding. It aims to present a historical perspective by lifting the school out of a local setting and showing a relationship to an ideology of the American Revolution that permeated society until well into the present century
-Editor’s note
Nineteen hundred—the turn of the century—like a pause between two acts, found the world waiting, watching and wondering what comes next. Nationalism, socialism, laissez-faire economics, rival alliances, all leavened the nations with powerful forces that were about to combine and explode. Yet there was a naiveté about the audience’s expectations which overlooked the lurking doubt and pessimism, so it opted for belief in the progress that a popular interpretation of Darwin’s theory encouraged. Time would tell whether the progress the citizens envisioned would be fast or slow, but of limitless progress they were sure, and as they saw it in 1900, that progress would march hand in hand with virtue.1 There it is, virtue, the watchword of republicanism. What did it mean and how did it relate to The Bishop’s School, founded just after the century turned?
A brief look at republicanism in our national history will disclose how it fits into the picture we are about to review. It was an ideology2 that dates from a time when the Roman Republic declined and disorder prevailed, emerging when fantasy entered Roman thought and thrust its imagination back to a mythical community of republican freedoms and Arcadian virtues. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when monarchies came under scrutiny and attack, thinkers clasped the fragile republican tradition with its idealized pictures of the revered republics and turned it into a modern ideology. Influenced by these intellectuals and fascinated with their historical autopsies of ancient states, the American revolutionaries early saw their revolt as a way to make a new republican world with utopian dimensions.3
While there were doubts and apprehensions about the experiment upon which they were embarking, Americans took pride in proclaiming its virtues to the world and soon developed an attachment to the new ideology, so that the Revolution came to embody an economic, social and political reordering of beliefs which permeated all American society for years to come.4
Economically, in a reaction to the traditional public control possessed by the crown, American republicanism encouraged the free enterprise stance of capitalists and energetic entrepreneurs.
From the standpoint of the social structure, it soon became apparent that to achieve republican goals would require some major alterations. Even the arts were impressed into service to help fashion a virtuous citizenry. All of the fine arts seemed to Americans to reflect the decadence of European life, and a new republican art avoiding monarchical extravagances would have to be created. With its icy severity, elegant simplicity, and taste for serenity, the neoclassicism then overtaking Europe became a model for the high-minded guardians of republican ideals.
From a political viewpoint, republics were known to be an unstable kind of state “vulnerable to foreign influence and highly susceptible to faction and internal disorder. Theorists thus concluded that republics had to be small in territory and homogeneous in character . . . [and] had to be held together from below, by the people themselves.”5 Therefore, to the Fathers of the Republic, above everything there must be order and stability.
A republic’s unique elective methods required a pool from which representatives could be drawn who would be independent, have talent for leadership, recognize the equality of citizens, repudiate selfishness, and give complete devotion to the common welfare. Citizens took on a civic moral significance unknown to any monarchy and came under the mantle of extraordinary demands for moral quality which in republican tradition was called virtue.
Virtue, said Montesquieu, is the soul of a republic. In both ancient Rome and in the American Republic, virtue encompassed many qualities including manners and morals, social solidarity and internal unity, obedience to duty, reformation, moderation, frugality, fortitude, industry and simplicity. A redoubtable catalog, indeed.
Whether the Americans had the character needed for republicanism to succeed posed a frightening circumstance because the hard won liberties and freedoms were dependent for their continuance upon the formation of a virtuous society. It was the character and spirit of its people and not the force of arms which determined whether a republic would flourish, so all that sapped virtue was unrepublican and needed to be purged. To nurture virtue, then, became a prime consideration for both religion and education.
Washington’s eloquent Farewell Address exhorted the people that virtue is “a necessary spring of popular government”6; and time and again statesmen told the clergy that “from the success or failure of your exertions in the cause of virtue, we anticipate the freedom or slavery of our country.”7 Benjamin Rush, an ardent patriot and leader in American science and letters, wrote in 1786 that the American Revolution-though over for nearly five years-had really just begun, and that he saw it as his mission to bring about a revolution in principles, manners, and opinions that would befit a republican government. Earnestly he stated that “the only foundation for a useful education in a republic is to be laid in RELIGION. Without this, there can be no virtue, and without virtue there can be no liberty, and liberty is the object and life of all republican governments.”8 Religion, together with the Puritan ethic, had played such a vital role in transforming republicanism into a zealous endeavor that by 1811 its Christianization was virtually complete, and the United States was (in conscience at least) republican, Christian and Protestant, and on its way toward embracing a civil religion in which republicanism would play an integral part. Throughout the nineteenth century this was to be a “defining characteristic of national identity.”9
Along with religion, republicanism also looked to education for its success. In a speech titled “The Need for Virtue,” given on the Fourth of July 1783, the patriot John Warren glorified Sparta as a republican model and reminded his hearers that the Achaeans were fully persuaded that the only way to reduce the Spartans to subjection and dependence was to eradicate public virtue by changing their education and inculcating a love for luxury.10
With the rise of political parties in the 1790s republicanism began to bifurcate. It divided into Jeffersonian-Jacksonian-democratic as well as into Hamiltonian-Whiggish-aristocratic factions. With the emergence in 1828 of the Jacksonian period, a Whiggish republicanism took form to counter the trend toward a leveled society, to bolster the position of the “natural” aristocrats, and to encourage expansion in the marketplace. The common school reformers at that time were of this latter persuasion, as were many of the educational leaders in the first two decades of the twentieth century, so that for about 100 years there was at least a casual alliance between education and business.11
The 1830s saw the publication of the first McGuffey Readers which nurtured such republican values as thrift, self-denial, temperance, modesty, frugality, and virtuous living. These Readers had an influence in molding American outlook and of them it has been said they were “more than a text-book… they were a portable school for the new priests of the republic.”12
Horace Mann in an 1848 report clearly stated the challenge to common school educaton when he noted, “It may be an easy thing to make a Republic; but it is a very laborious thing to make [r]epublicans….”13 Under the leadership of Mann and other reformers the classroom would become the “sacrosanct ground where only the doctrine and principles of republicanism were to be preached.”14 This was a republicanism that “emphasized the need for public obedience rather than public participation” and taught pupils respect “for the sanctity of private property, [and] for the inherited authority of their social betters.”15
While most contemporary observers admitted as early as 1800 that the republican experiment had failed to develop into the utopia of its founders’ dreams, society had nevertheless acquired a set of values which was to exert a profound influence throughout the century. To pinpoint the demise of republicanism is difficult because it faded gradually; however, at the turn of the century Theodore Roosevelt with all of his contempt of danger and love of valor, articulated republican ideals on several occasions. “Americanism,” he wrote, “means the virtues of courage, honor, justice, truth, sincerity and hardihood-the virtues that made America great.”16
By the 1920s, republican morality still received praise but was met with countervailing forces that by mid-century came out on top. Silent and frugal Calvin Coolidge became a symbol of republican virtues as noted by political commentator Walter Lippmann who “pointed out at the time, Coolidge made Americans ‘feel . . . stern, ascetic, and devoted to plain living because they vote for a man who is. Thus we have attained a Puritanism deluxe in which it is possible to praise the classic virtues while continuing to enjoy all the modern conveniences’.”17 So we see that while republicanism was still alive early in the twentieth century, it was clearly in a weakened condition after World War I.
Before correlating this ideology to The Bishop’s School, we shall focus briefly at this point on the educational situation which prevailed when the school first came into existence. This will clarify the relationship between republicanism and the business sector which has always had an interest in schools,. At the end of the nineteenth century high schools nationally were beleaguered by an influx of children of immigrants and the working class. After a decade or more of experimentation with separate manual arts schools (which business and industry favored for those “children of the masses”) had proven to be unsuccessful,18 educators turned by 1908 to what was called “differential” schooling. Hailed as truly democratic education because those with a different future deserved a different education, it abandoned the separate campus and curriculum of the manual arts schools which supposedly would control an undue rise in expectations, and huddled all types of pupils onto the same campus with only some students tracked into college preparatory courses. Throwing all students together for athletic events, lunch and assemblies helped to perpetuate the myth of a classless society.
The Bishop’s School opened in 1909 with a differentiated curriculum of three separate programs which businessmen gradually supported as a second choice to the vocational schools. Until 1920 only a minority of Bishop’s students had taken the four-year college preparatory course which required completion of those subjects necessary for admission to the “best Eastern colleges.” Most of the students matriculated in the English or music courses which took five years to complete and did not qualify the student for college admission. Subjects taught in the English course were civil government, business law, business forms, and bookkeeping, as well as domestic science which included interior decorating, cooking and woodworking. The music course aimed to reach a different kind of student. It required a public concert, a year of voice, and emphasized such subjects as history, literature and language, but omitted science and mathematics on the quaint assumption that “[t]he mathematical way of viewing things and thinking about them is not natural to most people.”19 Of the three courses offered, the music course was by far the most popular and serious consideration was given to establishing a separate school of music.
As the second decade closed, however, differentiated schooling was being widely questioned by educators. It seemed neither democratic, for it segregated, nor efficient, because fewer than ten percent of high school students wanted the trade or business programs which were frequently of second class quality. A compromise was achieved by originating the comprehensive school wherein all types of courses were offered and available to all students on the same campus so that differentiation would not seem so apparent. The business sector, having failed to accomplish the separate schooling it wanted for the education of the masses, turned its attention again to the best way to educate its own. After all, had not many American revolutionists acknowledged that tradition emphasized that a viable republic required “an economically independent, educated, leisured order of society standing securely and permanently above the petty selfishness of the multitudes of ordinary men”?20 In response to this national educational impasse, The Bishop’s School dropped its differentiated curriculum and, ignoring the new comprehensive school idea, concentrated instead on a college preparatory program only.
Given the historic ties of business, industry, education, and the Protestant religion to republicanism, it is easy to see the relationship of its ideals to The Biship’s School in its first four decades. The place of republican values is evident in the first catalog for 1909-1910 where the aim for the school is stated: “To fit a girl for life involves a constant care in matters of virtue, purity, truthfulness and simplicity. This we aim to do, not by numerous rules, but by developing a sense of responsibility and honor.”21
The classical philosophers viewed character as fundamental and the cultivation of virtue as paramount. Because the acquisition of virtue was considered a skill, it could be realized by practice, training and example, without reliance upon rigid rules of right and wrong. Values and character came from a subtle process of identifying with a community and internalizing its standards, so that its demands were accepted as part of oneself rather than as external strictures. Drawing its inspiration from this font of classical republican wisdom, The Bishop’s School set out on four decades of teaching and training young women in the primacy of virtue.
Of all the republican virtues, simplicity is the one with which Bishop’s seemed obsessively preoccupied. It, along with two other virtues, is given first place in the school’s motto: “Simplicitas, Sinceritas, Serenitas.” Simplicity represented the rustic traits of the sturdy yeoman which made society strong, so Thomas Jefferson spurned resplendent horse-drawn car-riages and dressed plainly. On Bishop’s campus simplicity showed itself most vividly in the architecture of Irving John Gill which stood in stark contrast to the so-called Victorian “gingerbread” style then in vogue. The architect, he wrote, “should build . . . simple, plain, and substantial as a boulder, then leave the ornamentation of it to Nature, who will tone it with lichens [and] chisel it with storms . . .”22
Simple architecture set the tone, receiving enhancement and amplification throughout the campus from a carefully fostered lifestyle. In the boarding rooms the furniture was simple, the walls unadorned except for a framed picture or two, the floors often without rugs, the drapes of hopsacking material and the light bulbs bare. The 1910-1911 catalog tersely states, “simplicity of dress is urged.” At first there were no uniforms; but once there were, dress for the boarders when off campus had to be of plain material with no stripes, patterns or frills, and make-up and jewelry were forbidden. Even a trip to the village for ice cream on a Saturday afternoon required a hat and gloves! As late as 1938 simplicity was applauded in the foreword of the school annual, El Miradero, with words which today have a bombastic ring: “Simplicity and Strength walk together . . . Go and run with them-speak to them, live with them and make them your own, for they are good.”23
Social harmony, order, and tranquility—all strongly affirmed by republicanism—are expressed in the school motto by the word serenity. Serenity in republicanism was related to the calm associated with an ordered life. This was such an important value that for years an “order” squad helped to insure a tidy campus and decorous students. The student body president, who was chosen by the headmistress, dutifully conducted desk inspections with the help of a student committee. Also, “we made a great point of ‘Quiet Hours’ and thought it was a good idea to be able to observe ‘Quiet’ and ‘Solitude’,”24 explained Caroline Seely Cummins, head-mistress for over thirty years of the school’s first four decades. Serenity and solitude were protected at Bishop’s by permitting radios only in the recreation room and housemother’s quarters. Teachers had to wear rubber heels not just for their safety, but also to insure quiet movement through the halls. Not surprisingly, some students were certain the rule was made to facilitate teachers in surreptitious surveillance of student infractions of rules, unmindful of the fact that they as students also had to wear rubber heels. A daily quiet time at noon prevailed, and on Sunday it might be two hours long. This was a time for reading, meditating, writing letters or resting. Lights out at the early hour of 9:30 p.m. contributed to the serenity of the campus. This is not to imply that there never were boisterous activities—there were—but serenity was also cultivated.
The bishop insisted that the school be kept small so that a strong sense of loyalty and solidarity could be established. Loyalty to the group dictated that “[n]o man is a true republican that will not give up his single voice” for the good of the whole.25 Freedom and liberty did not belong to the individual so much as to the group or body politic. Republicanism sanctioned coercive action and intimidation against disloyal individuals in the interests of the common good.26 At The Bishop’s School the emphasis on loyalty, passive obedience, homogeneity and community as enforced by an austere headmistress proved intimidating for some students.
A sense of solidarity, always high on the list of republican virtues, was stated well by Miss Cummins when she said of The Bishop’s School community “t’wasn’t luxurious or money-making but it certainly was intimate. [W]e lived together very happily and worked hard and just made our own life.”27 So it is not startling to learn that current events had almost no place in the curriculum and one survey of such extant writings of students as could be found indicated only one student expressed recognition of a world larger than the school and the surrounding area.28
The republican emphasis on equality always possessed an inherent ambivalence, but nevertheless served as a foundation for virtue. It sufficiently contradicted the realities of American social and economic life that its preservation demanded belief in the myth of a classless society. In The Bishop’s School community this myth became an actuality as none were too rich nor too poor. But still it was a community in conflict with itself where symbols of status were respected and displays of superiority detested. Equality at The Bishop’s School, therefore, took the form of downgrading academic distinctions with the accompanying prizes, awards and honors. Action by the board of trustees made this official policy for a number of years, and participation in honor societies likewise lacked sanction.
Frugality could be seen in the absence of conspicuous consumption. When the students once complained about stale cookies, the headmistress replied that such a mundane subject would not be discussed. In turn, the treasurer was so tight-fisted that the headmistress chafed under his instructions not to spend more than five dollars without his approval. When a winter flood wiped out communications between the village of La Jolla and San Diego, the treasurer, fretting about food supplies getting through to the seventy-five boarders, called to inquire what needs the school had. He learned of a shortage of eggs and butter, so he hurried to supply the diminished stores with a dozen of the one item and a pound of the other!
Fortitude, a value of the Spartan republic, also found expression at the school. In chapel the kneelers in the pews were purposely unpadded to inure students to discomfort, while in the boarding department there was a time when cold baths were required to stimulate mental activity. Sleeping out of doors was encouraged even in cold, damp weather. Absences, severely frowned upon because resilience meant regular attendance at school and duty demanded it, could jeopardize receipt of the coveted diploma.
Religious practices also helped to cultivate moderation, truthfulness and a sense of duty. Remembered one student, “Miss Cummins [headmistress from 1921 to 1953] taught us the meaning of that old-fashioned concept—DUTY.”29 and it did not mean duty to oneself first. If a student dared to ask why one had to go to chapel she would be told “because it is your duty.” This duty was fulfilled by attendance at daily morning prayers and evening chapel services along with memorizing a new hymn each week. Social service to the community extended the sense of duty and included sewing layettes for babies of the needy, dressing dolls for patients at Children’s Hospital and packing gift boxes for the Indian Mission. During both world wars students rolled bandages for the Red Cross, raised vegetables and donated money for military vehicles.
Plato in The Republic maintained that moral excellence is grounded in total loyalty to a sound moral tradition which is enforced by education.30 James Madison picked up the theme when he warned that degeneracy of manners and morals brought on by war would imperil republicanism.31 What had been learned theoretically about ethics in the required Bible classes, received practical applications by the headmistress every Thursday evening when manners and morals always dominated the meetings. Miss Cummins sat in a big chair with the boarders on the floor around her. Here loyalty and matters of community interest and of the elementary values of civilized living came up for discussion. Developing a capacity for self-restraint was seen as the first step toward accepting the obligations of civilization. Civilized living characterized a lady and that was partly what The Bishop’s School aimed to produce. It was never a finishing school as the academic program was demanding; nevertheless, in good republican tradition training in civilized living was important at Bishop’s. It meant many things, among them to sit and never lie down in public, so that on a tour of the campus, students would never be seen lying on the grass looking “like slain bodies on a battlefield,” as Miss Cummins once graphically and disdainfully described the quadrangle in a nostalgic interview several years after she had retired. At that time she summed up succinctly her views on one aspect of a Bishop’s School education when she said, “School. . . was a period of training, just like the ‘boot camp’ for boys, and you learned to be orderly; you learned to be prompt; you learned to be a million-and-one things.”32
The Whiggish-Hamiltonian branch of republicanism also underscored the need for deference to a class with recognized social authority.33 This point of view had support from Miss Cummins who openly admitted she would never stoop to the level of eating with the help. Eerily apropos of this is an incident of several young teachers being reprimanded for having taken tea in the home of one of the women on the maintenance staff.
But however distorted and doctrinaire it may have become by mid-century, it is a monument to the vitality of the republican ideology of the Revolutionary era that it remained part of the national mood for so long.
It should be borne in mind that this article has centered on only one aspect of The Bishop’s School and that a full picture of that institution in its early years has not been reconstructed.34 Further, in curriculum, pedagogy and philosophy the school today bears little resemblance to those early years. Yet at the time, The Bishop’s School provided parents and colleges with what they wanted in high school graduates; and republican virtues, while on the decline as a basis for educational philosophy, were still prized by a lot of people. In fact, as late as the end of the 1970s parents inquired of a Bishop’s School history teacher whether United States history was taught as the history of a democracy or the history of a republic!
Conclusion
The Bishop’s School entered the educational scene at the very time “differential” schooling appeared as a concession to the spirit of equality and democracy being demanded by the common people. It experimented with this in a republican setting until 1920 when education had turned to the comprehensive school which did not find wide-spread acceptance in business and industry. The Bishop’s School then jettisoned its vocational and music programs and maintained only the college preparatory curriculum with a strong republican emphasis, at a time when that ideology was in a state of rapid decline after World War I. It may be concluded, therefore, that this gave to Bishop’s, as a church-related school with a feeling of national civic responsibility, a strong sense (either consciously or unconsciously) of “mission” to help save the virtues of a Christianized and Hamiltonian form of republicanism from the influences of a growing democratic secularism that gravely endangered traditional values.
After World War II the remnants of an effete republicanism at The Bishop’s School faded quickly with the onslaught of a resurging individualism. But change “lays not her hand upon truth,” and some of the enduring qualities of the pristine ideology that have survived the crucible of time now sincerely permeate the school as a proud part of its heritage; so it may be said the diamond jubilee of seventy-five years represents a maturity in which the best of the past blends with the present and the future. Without such a balance an institution can decay into a powerless historical recollection. To avoid that fate, The Bishop’s School, not scorning what is old nor fearing what is new, now moves toward its hundredth anniversary with a determined commitment to excellence in education in fluid times and an unshaken conviction that there are abiding values for a changing world.
The author expresses appreciation to Gregg and Melinda Hennessey, and to Judith Haxo, for helpful criticisms of the essay in its draft form; any errors which may still mar the article are in no way their responsibility.
NOTES
1. “The View from 1900,” Time, LV (January 2, 1950), p. 18.
2. Social scientists disagree on a definition for the term ideology. A generally acceptable meaning for the word might be: A tendency underlying religious, scientific and political thought which makes facts amenable to ideas in order to create a world image.
3. Gordon S. Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 1776-1787 (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1969), pp. 47-48.
4. Robert E. Shalhope, “Toward a Republican Synthesis: The Emergence of an Understanding of Republicanism in American Historiography,” The William and Mary Quarterly, XXIX (January, 1972), pp. 61, 70. This article is an excellent annotated bibliographical study of early republicanism in America.
5. Bernard Bailyn et. al., The Great Republic, A History of the American People (Lexington: D. C. Heath Co., 1977), Vol. 1, p. 294.
6. Henry Steele Commager (ed.), Documents of American History, 3d edition (New York: F. S. Crofts & Co., 1944), p. 173.
7. Bailyn, The Great Republic, p. 409.
8. David B. Tyack (ed.), Turning Points in American Educational History (Waltham: Blaisdell Publishing Co., 1967), p. 103.
9. James A. Henretta, The Evolution of American Society, 1700-1815 (Lexington: D. C. Heath Co., 1970), p. 222. The term civil religion was first used by Jean-Jacques Rousseau in Du contrat social (1762). It was not until the late date of 1967 that an American, Robert N. Bellah, first conceptualized the term. The following points may be considered fundamental to this complex concept as expressed during the nineteenth century (for the present century the term has a different connotation): A nation has a transcendent meaning independent of Judeo-Christian traditions; God has a special concern for the American nation; important values are reward of virtue, self-sacrifice, reconciliation and rebirth, free enterprise, popular sovereignty, individualism, pragmatism, egalitarianism. A civil religion has its own scriptures (in the U.S., the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution), heroes, symbols and rituals. It has never represented a tightly coherent system. See American Civil Religion, Russell Richey and Donald Jones, editors (New York: Harper and Row Publishers, 1974).
10. John Warren, “The Need for Virtue,” in Gordon S. Wood (ed.), The Rising Glory of America, 1760-1820 (New York: George Braziller, 1971), pp. 60-61.
11. David Nasaw, Schooled to Order: A Social History of Public Schooling in the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979), pp. 108-109, 116, 126-127; also see Henretta, p. 222.
12. Robert Wood Lynn, “Civil Catechetics in Mid-Victorian America: Some Notes About American Civil Religion, Past and Present,” as quoted in John H. Westerhoff III, McGuffey and His Readers (Nashville: Abingdon, 1978), p. 16.
13. Horace Mann, Twelfth Annual Report (1848), reproduced in Lawrence A. Cremin (ed.), The Republic and the School: Horace Mann on the Education of Free Men (New York: Bureau of Publications, Teachers College Press, Columbia University, 1957), p. 92.
14. Nasaw, Schooled to Order, p. 40.
15. Ibid., p. 41.
16. “Heroes,” Time, Pacific edition, LXXI (March 3, 1958), p. 14.
17. The Great Depression, cassette tape, Part I (Pleasantville: Educational Audio Visual Inc., 1973).
18. Nasaw, Schooled to Order, pp. 146, 149-150. It was unsuccessful because the masses wanted the traditional education received by the classes.
19. Annual Catalog, 1910-1911, The Bishop’s School, p. 15.
20. Bernard Bailyn (ed.), Pamphlets of the American Revolution, 1750-1776 (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1965), Vol. I, p. 177.
21. Annual Catalog, 1909-1910, The Bishop’s School for Girls, p. 6.
22. “Irving John Gill,” The Bishop’s School News (April, 1959), p. 15.
23. As quoted in Alumnae News, The Bishop’s School, V (June, 1983), p. 2.
24. Taped and transcribed interview between Caroline Cummins and Sheryl Owens (December 29, 1968), The Bishop’s School archives, p. 6.
25. Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, p. 61.
26. G. S. Rowe, Thomas McKean: The Shaping of an American Republicanism (Boulder: Colorado Associated University Press, 1978), p. 95.
27. Taped and transcribed interview between Caroline Cummins and Sheryl Owens (June 11, 1969), p. 5; and Sarah Lee Sharp, The Bishop’s School: Its Society, Its Girls and Its Parents, term paper for the English Department, (March 22, 1971), pp. 2, 14.
28. Sharp, Bishop’s School, pp. 10, 21.
29. Response to questionnaire sent to alumnae, February 28, 1977.
30. “Plato,” Encyclopedia Britannica, 15th edition, Vol. XIV, 535.
31. Edward McNall Burns, The American Ideal of Mission: Concepts of National Purpose and Destiny (New Brunswick Rutgers University Press, 1957), p. 246.
32. Taped and transcribed interview, December 29, 1969 (Cummins and Owens), p. 5.
33. See footnote 15 above. A description of the origins of the tensions on this issue can be found in Bernard Bailyn, The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1967), pp. 301-319.
34. For a more complete coverage see Thomas W. Mitchell, Reviewing the Vision: A Story of The Bishop’s Schools, 1979.
PHOTOGRAPHS for this article are from The Bishop’s School archives.
