There were several candidates among the towns of the State for the honor of having the University. Detroit, Monroe, and Marshall were mentioned, but an offer of forty acres of land by the Ann Arbor Land Company, previously offered unsuccessfully as a site for the state capitol, proved the most attractive bid, and the Legislature voted in favor of Ann Arbor in an act signed by the Governor, March 20, 1837. The town was then fourteen years old and boasted some 2,000 inhabitants, who supported four churches, two newspapers, two banks, seventeen drygoods stores, eleven lawyers, nine doctors, and eight mills and manufacturing plants, including a good-sized plow factory. Nevertheless it was in essentials a frontier community. There are those still living who remember the Indians who came in to town to trade,—presumably at those seventeen drygoods stores. Transportation was primitive, the first railroad did not come until 1839; while great tracts of uninhabited land lay on every side.

Of the twelve Regents by appointment who were members of the first Board, six had been members of the Constitutional Convention, two were physicians, and four were lawyers; seven had received collegiate degrees, while one, Henry R. Schoolcraft, was the best authority of that time on the American Indian. General Crary appears to have been the only one who had previously concerned himself with educational matters, so it is small wonder that some impracticable measures were taken.

To those of us who look back now with the advantage of "hind-sight," the mistakes of the first Board are obvious. Two tracts of land were considered as possible sites for the University. The choice fell upon the wrong one, and we now have the present Campus, undistinguished by any natural advantages, instead of the commanding location on the hills overlooking the Huron, recommended by the committee appointed at the first session. We do not know now why the change was made, though there must have been some little discussion, as it was only made by a vote of 6 to 5. We can only imagine now how much more beautiful and impressive the buildings of the future University might have been, lining the brows of the hills overlooking the Huron Valley, rather than spreading over the flat rough clearing of the Rumsey farm that by that time had lost the attraction which the original forest trees must once have given it. For many years the present Campus remained what it was originally, a bit of farm land, where wheat was grown on the unoccupied portions and where the families of the four professors who lived on the Campus gathered peaches from the old farm orchard.

At their first meeting the Regents undertook the preliminary steps towards the appointment of a Faculty, though a resolution asking for a change in the University Act, giving them power to elect and prescribe the duties of a Chancellor of the University, suggests that they were uncertain of their powers in this matter. Four prospective professorships were established and though the report of the committee on the matter was not adopted as presented, the assignment of the subjects is suggestive; they included a Professor of Mental Philosophy, whose field was to comprise Moral Philosophy, Natural Theology, Rhetoric, Oratory, Logic, and the History of All Religions; a Professor of Mathematics, to have also in charge Civil Engineering and Architecture; a Professor of Languages, to have in charge the Roman and Greek languages; and a Professor of Law. This action came four years before the actual appointment of Professors of Languages and Mathematics and twenty-two years before a Professor of Law was needed. A librarian, the Rev. Henry Colclazer, was also appointed, the first officer of the University chosen, though he did not assume his duties or his munificent salary of $100 a year until 1841. The question of the organization of the branches, which became the perennial subject of discussion at all the early meetings of the Board, also came up at this time through the authorization of a Committee on Branches, and a request that the Superintendent of Public Instruction furnish an "outline of a plan of the University."

From this time on meetings of the Regents were held with fair regularity, either in Ann Arbor or, more usually, in the capitol city, which at that time was Detroit. Occasional difficulties in obtaining a quorum are discernible, however, in the reports of the early meetings. The trip on horseback or stage from Detroit to Ann Arbor during the first two years was not always easy or convenient, while there was little to arouse enthusiasm in the slow development of the Campus. The question of a library and scientific apparatus interested the Board from the first meeting and among their early purchases was a collection of minerals made by one Baron Lederer which consisted of 2,600 specimens, purchased in January, 1838, for $4,000. In July of the same year, Dr. Asa Gray was made a Professor of Botany and ZoÖlogy, the first professor to be appointed. He was contemplating a trip to Europe and was entrusted by the Regents with $5,000 for the purchase of a library. This charge he performed to the great satisfaction of the Regents, sending back a collection of 3,700 volumes in all the branches ordinarily taught at that time, including many books unobtainable in America. This task ended Professor Gray's connection with Michigan. Practically all his long and distinguished career was spent as a professor in Harvard University. Another purchase of this period, probably the first acquisition for the library, which seems curiously extravagant for the officers of an "incipient" University, was Audubon's "Birds of America." At the present time it is worth many times the $970 paid for it then, but one wonders, in view of the extreme slenderness of the resources of the University, just what was the idea which led to its purchase. It was in any case an evidence of the interest of the Board in practical scientific studies and their sympathy with what was then the progressive movement in education.

Meanwhile the Regents were making haste slowly in erecting the University buildings. In accordance with the "grand design" of the University Act, a New Haven architect was commissioned to prepare what proved to be, according to Superintendent Pierce, "a truly magnificent design." The Governor and the Board of Regents approved this plan but the Superintendent of Public Instruction, with a better sense of realities, refused his assent. He maintained that a university did not consist of fine buildings, "but in the number and ability of its Professors, and in its other appointments, as libraries, cabinets, and works of art." So this scheme which would have cost five hundred thousand dollars, or twice the amount of what had at that time been realized from the University lands, was abandoned, apparently to the great disappointment of the citizens of Ann Arbor, who showed their disapproval by a public indignation meeting.

The plan finally adopted had at least the merit of modesty and some degree of serviceability. It called for the erection of six buildings, two to serve as dormitories and class rooms and four as professors' houses, all on the Campus. The first of the dormitories was completed in 1841, at a cost of about $16,000; while the four professors' houses, which were ready at the same time, cost $30,850. The dormitory, which was the first University building, is now the north wing of University Hall. It was a gaunt, bleak structure in those days, one hundred and ten by forty feet, whose stark outlines were softened nowhere by trees and shrubbery. The original plan called for sixty-four bedrooms and thirty-two studies, but the necessity of including a chapel and a recitation room on the first and second floors, the library on the third, and a museum on the fourth, severely limited the space for the students' rooms. In 1843 the building was named Mason Hall, in honor of the late Governor who had just died, but the name was long forgotten until revived in 1914, when a tablet was placed by the D.A.R. on the building, which has since been called by that name. Contemporary opinion is reflected in a description of this building in the Michigan State Journal of August 10, 1841, where we read: "More classical models or a more beautiful finish cannot be imagined. They honor the architect, while they beautify the village." From this one cannot but suspect that journalistic exaggeration is not entirely a latter-day fault, although the opinion of Governor Barry seems to have been somewhat the same when he charged the Regents with "vast expenditures" for "large and commodious buildings, which ... will doubtless at some future period be wanted for occupation and use."

As a matter of fact the Governor's strictures were not entirely unjustified, as the four professors' houses proved a continual source of annoyance and expense, while the wisdom of erecting a building to be used largely as a dormitory when students could easily have lived in the town, as they do nowadays, was doubtful. Governor Barry is reported to have said in 1842 that "as the State had the buildings and had no other use for them, it was probably best to continue the school." That was in the period of the lowest ebb of the University's fortunes which followed soon after its doors were opened, and, as Professor Ten Brook remarked, it showed that the balance of the scale between suspending and going forward may have been turned in favor of the University by the bare fact of having these architectural preparations. The second and corresponding building was not erected until 1849 at the cost of about $13,000. A few months later the Medical Building was completed.

The affairs of the University were in a critical state by 1843. The sale of the state lands had resulted in no such sum as had been expected; the branches had been eating up what little income there was; while an unfortunate bit of financiering on the part of the Regents in 1838, involving a loan of $100,000 from the State for the immediate completion of the necessary buildings and the establishment of the branches, only added to the difficulties. The history of this loan is a complicated one which does not need to be detailed here. The expense incurred in establishing the branches, the purchases for the library and mineral collections, and the erection of the buildings practically exhausted it. When it was made the Regents supposed that the income from the state lands would more than cover the interest, but this proved a vain hope. Practically every bit of the University's income was needed for this purpose. The situation was only saved in 1844 by the Legislature permitting the Regents to apply depreciated treasury notes and other state scrip received for the sale of University lands at a fixed valuation in the payment of this debt, as well as accepting some property in Detroit. This relieved the situation so that soon after that time the Regents were able to report that the disbursements were less than the receipts. For several years the State exacted interest for this loan and in 1850 deducted $100,000 from the University fund held by the State. Three years later, however, the Legislature directed that the interest upon the whole amount of the lands sold be paid to the University. This was done by successive Legislatures until in 1877 the $100,000 was finally returned to the University fund through an adjustment of the accounting system of the State. Whether the return of this $100,000 constitutes a gift to the University by the State is still a matter of discussion. Professor Ten Brook, in his "History of American State Universities," written, however, in 1875, before the final adjustment was made, maintained that the University had already paid this debt, while Professor Hinsdale, in his later "History of the University," more properly insisted that actually the University never repaid the debt, and that this $100,000 was eventually made a gift and thus became the first direct state support of the University of Michigan.

The whole history of the early finances of the University is one of great expectations and of small resources not always judiciously used. The sums expended upon the branches were not spent in vain, for they provided the scholastic foundation of the University in its first years. Nor is the erection of University buildings to be criticized, except as to their impractical character. This defect the experience of a few years was to show, for one of the first acts of Dr. Tappan, when he became President in 1852, was to end the use of the two University buildings as dormitories; while the professors' houses, with the exception of the one reserved as the President's residence, were eventually used for general University purposes and at one time were even let as boarding houses.

In September, 1841, the University first opened its doors with a Faculty of two. The first Professor appointed to assume active duties was the Rev. George Palmer Williams, formerly the head of the Pontiac branch, who was elected in July, 1841, as Professor of Languages. In August, the Rev. Joseph Whiting was elected Professor of Languages, and Professor Williams was transferred to the Professorship of Mathematics, and, later, of Natural Philosophy. Strictly speaking these two were not the first professors in the University, as Asa Gray had received his appointment as Professor of Botany in July, 1838, and Dr. Douglass Houghton had been elected Professor of Chemistry, ZoÖlogy, and Mineralogy in October, 1839. Though both of these distinguished men rendered services to the University, one in the selection of the library, and the other in contributions to the scientific collections, neither ever met any classes.

The grand total of the students who ventured to try the educational facilities offered when the University at last got down to business was exactly six: Judson D. Collins, Lyndon Township; Merchant H. Goodrich, Ann Arbor; Lyman D. Norris, Ypsilanti; George E. Parmalee, Ann Arbor; George W. Pray, Superior; and William B. Wesson, Detroit. By the time this class was graduated in 1845, the number had increased to twelve. The mental fare set before this little company consisted of the traditional classical curriculum, which differed not at all from the ordinary college course of those days in spite of the progressive spirit of the founders. For the Freshmen, Livy, Xenophon, and algebra occupied the first term. Horace, Thucydides, Herodotus, and Roman antiquities, more algebra, geometry and botany, the second term; while Horace, Homer, geometry, mensuration, and the application of algebra to geometry completed the year. More Greek and Latin and higher mathematics were scheduled for the second year, while science in the shape of lectures in zoÖlogy and chemistry and two courses in intellectual and moral science, represented by Abercrombie's "Intellectual Powers" and Paley's "Natural Theology," were added to their classical and mathematical studies during the third year. Geology and calculus were introduced the fourth year, as well as courses in philosophy, moral science, psychology, logic, economics, and political science. No modern languages, medieval or modern history, or laboratory courses in science, save what practical demonstrations could be made from the cabinet of minerals, were offered, to say nothing of engineering, architecture, law, or medicine. The traditions of centuries were still too strong and the institution too weak.

Upon this modest foundation the curriculum slowly grew; new professorships were added from time to time as they became imperatively necessary, so that little by little opportunities developed for the leaven of the new spirit in education to work. In 1843 the Rev. Edward Thomson, afterwards President of Ohio Wesleyan University, was appointed Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy. He only stayed one year; and was succeeded by the Rev. Andrew Ten Brook, in after years Librarian and historian of the University. In 1842, Abram Sager, M.D., afterwards a member of the Medical Faculty, was made Professor of ZoÖlogy and Botany, while Silas H. Douglas, M.D., who was later to organize the Chemical Laboratory, came in 1844 as an assistant to the absent Professor of Chemistry, Dr. Houghton. The chair of Logic, Rhetoric, and History was filled the next year by the Rev. Daniel D. Whedon; while the chair of Greek and Latin, left vacant by the death of Dr. Whiting about this time, was filled by the Rev. John H. Agnew. In 1846, a Professor of Modern Languages, Louis Fasquelle, LL.D., was appointed and became one of the most distinguished members of that early group.

These were the men who cast their lot with the very precarious fortunes of the new University. The first two resident members of the Faculty, who came to the University from the branches, suffered a considerable diminution of their salary, as the scale outlined at the first Regents' Meeting was more than halved; they received annually but five hundred dollars and the rent of their houses. In fact it was not for many years that the $2,000 maximum salary first established was reached. Even these salaries were not certain in the dark days of 1842 and 1843, when the Regents felt it their duty to make known to the Faculty the University's financial difficulties. The University owes not a little, surely, to these men who signified their willingness to stick by the institution and to endure privations and hardships as long as there was hope.

Life for the students in those days was also no bed of academic ease, though it was perhaps no harder than the home life to which they were accustomed. One study with the two adjoining bedrooms was assigned to two students who were expected to care for their own rooms and sweep the dirt into the halls for Pat Kelly, the "Professor of Dust and Ashes," as well as to cut their own wood at the woodpile behind the building and carry it in, sometimes up three flights of stairs. Chapel exercises were held from 5:30 to 6:30 in the morning and at 4:30 or 5:00 in the afternoon, according to the time of year, and were compulsory. Tradition has it that the efforts of the official monitors were supplemented by the janitor, whose duty it was to ring a bell, borrowed from the Michigan Central Railroad, and who aroused more than one delinquent by shouting, "Did yez hear the bell?", a commentary either on the bell or on Pat Kelly's voice. To a student of modern days the greatest hardship would appear in the first recitation of the day before breakfast following chapel exercises. Three classes were held daily except on Saturday, when there was only one recitation and an exercise in elocution.

On Sunday the students were obliged to attend service in some one of the churches, and monitors, sometimes not overzealous, were on hand to see that they attended. The expenses are given as from $80 to $100 a year, with an entrance fee of $10 and an annual tax of $7.50 for the use of the room and janitor's services. Students were allowed to leave the Campus for their meals but were expected to be on hand from morning prayers to 7:30 a.m., from 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon, from 2:00 to 5:00 p.m. and from 7:00 or 8:00 to 9:00 p.m., after which no student was permitted to leave the Campus. The question of illumination was a serious one in those days, and these periods varied somewhat with the length of daylight. The cost of candles for early recitations and chapel exercises was borne by the students.

The number of students increased each year up to 1847-48, when there were 89 enrolled. After that time, the withdrawal of University support from the branches and their gradual abandonment began to show its effect in the enrolment, which dropped to 57 in 1851-52. Twenty-three students were graduated with the class of 1849, while there were only nine in 1852. The struggling little towns of the State found enough difficulty for the time in supporting primary schools. The branches, however, had proved their necessity, and it was not long before the rise of the Union schools began to provide a stream of students which has flowed to the University uninterruptedly since that time.

There was another and probably more immediate reason for the falling off in attendance. This was the great struggle between the Faculty and the students over the establishment of Greek-letter societies, a contest which became so bitter that not only the town but the State Legislature was involved. A large number of students were expelled, and eventually the whole relationship between students and Faculty was placed upon a different basis. The trouble began in the spring of 1846, when some student depredations were traced to a small log house situated in the depths of what was then known as the Black Forest, the deep wood which extended far east of the Campus. This building, which probably stood somewhere on the present site of the Forest Hill Cemetery, was discovered to be the headquarters of the Chi Psi fraternity, the first chapter house built by any American college fraternity. When the faculty investigator sought entrance to this building, he found his way barred by resolute fratres. This led to the ultimate disclosure of the fact that two fraternities, Chi Psi and Beta Theta Pi, had been established in the University for at least a year, in direct violation of a regulation known as Rule 20, apparently in force for some time, which provided that:

The students involved, however, were willing enough to give lists of their members, relying upon their numbers and their affiliation with similar organizations in other colleges to avoid any unpleasant consequences. The Faculty thought otherwise; though as events proved their authority was not too well defined. Meanwhile another society, Alpha Delta Phi, had submitted a constitution to the Faculty for approval; but owing to the press of other matters it was not considered and the chapter was organized with no action by the authorities. The greater number of the students in the University thus became members of the three Greek-letter fraternities.

The Faculty was disturbed, but apparently did not take the matter too seriously at first and decided to allow the societies to continue, merely exacting pledges from all new students to join no society without approval by the Faculty; thus providing as they thought, for an early demise of the fraternities. It did not work out that way, however. The chapter of Alpha Delta Phi held that their society existed at least by sufferance of the Faculty, and proceeded to initiate members, a fact that was not discovered until March, 1847. Then followed a series of suspensions and re-admissions of students who had promised not to join these societies. Not only were they obliged to resign their membership, but the original members of Alpha Delta Phi were compelled formally to submit to re-admission to the University, pledging themselves not to consent to the initiation of any members of the University in the society in opposition to Rule 20. The matter rested here until the following November, when the society presented a second constitution, which was received by the Faculty with the announcement that they had no authority to legalize the society. This reply was answered by the students with a plea that if the Faculty had no authority to legalize their fraternity then they had no authority to forbid it. Later another fraternity asked for re-admission with similar results.

Meanwhile these organizations were maintaining themselves. Letters to the Presidents of six Eastern colleges brought replies most unfavorable to the fraternities and seemed to indicate to the Faculty that elsewhere the fraternities were under a strict ban. The students, however, knew that the facts were otherwise and that fraternities were flourishing in most of the institutions where they had been established. Finally in December, 1849, a list of members of the Chi Psi fraternity, which included the names of many new students, was found in a University catalogue. The defense set up by the chapter was that they were not members of a society "in the University of Michigan" but "in Ann Arbor," that they did not meet on University grounds, and that they had admitted three members who were not students. One of these members was, in fact, a member of the Board of Regents. The society, therefore, was not connected with the University and did not consist of students. This defense was considered only an evasion and on the last day of the term in 1849 the Faculty announced that the members of Chi Psi and Alpha Delta Phi, whose names had in the meantime been made public, must cease their connection with the University, unless they renounced their connection with their fraternities. Of the members of these two societies seven withdrew their membership; the others were expelled. The members of Beta Theta Pi were not expelled until September, 1850, apparently because the constitution had not yet been signed, to the disgust of one member of the Faculty, who considered this excuse only a legalistic quibble. Some of the students expelled went to other institutions, some eventually returned to the University, while others ended their college days.

This action naturally caused an uproar; neither the Faculty nor the Regents were unanimous in approval of these measures; while the citizens of Ann Arbor held an indignation meeting and appointed a committee to ask the Legislature for a change in the administration of the University. The Faculty prepared a report to the Regents stating their case strongly and even bitterly, characterizing the whole history of these three societies as "a detail of obliquities," and their "extended affiliations as a great irresponsible authority, a monster power, which lays its hand upon every College Faculty in our country"; they were also fearful of the "debauchery, drunkenness, pugilism, and duelling, ... and the despotic power of disorder and ravagism, rife among their German prototypes." This report was signed by all the Faculty, though the opinion was not unanimous, nor had all the actions of individual members been consistent.

The Regents also made a report sustaining the Faculty, and both were submitted to the Legislature, accompanied by a reply made by the seven reinstated students, who denied the charges. They even maintained that Rule 20 was a dead letter and that one of the Professors, when consulted at the time one of the fraternities was founded, did not disapprove, or quote this law. A memorial was also submitted by fifteen "neutral" students sustaining the Faculty and suggesting that the threatened legislation, which was advocated by the committee of Ann Arbor citizens, was the greatest obstacle to harmony. Unfortunately this legislative action was just what seemed inevitable for some time. The Ann Arbor citizens represented that the University was failing, and that the only way to save it was by an entire change in its organic law, the appointment of a new Faculty, and the recognition of that natural right of man—to form secret societies if he so elects.

Their case before the Legislature, however, had been weakened by the action of two students who had circulated a week or so in advance a garbled and caricatured form of the Faculty report, which had been submitted honorably to the students to enable them to make a reply if they so desired. This undoubtedly prejudiced the student case when the truth became known, and the net result was no action by the Legislature on any of the memorials. With the withdrawal of the bill, the Faculty and the Regents were left to handle the question as seemed best to them. In the meantime, however, the opposition to the suppression of the societies had become so widespread and aggressive that one by one the fraternities were "conditionally" reinstated in October, 1850.

While the upshot of all this hostility was, superficially, only a return to the status quo, the students had won their point. The germ of the trouble probably lay in the difference between the paternalistic attitude of the Faculty, traditional in all colleges of the time, and the beginning of a new and progressive spirit in University life. The students had been brought up in an atmosphere which developed individuality and self-reliance and they resented a meticulous regulation of their lives and doubtless contrasted it unfavorably with what they knew of European Universities. The whole fraternity struggle of 1848-50 may then be regarded, in part at least, as a successful effort on the students' part to ensure a different and more liberal policy toward student life and affairs on the part of the authorities.

Not the least of the troubles this contest brought to the University was the revelation of its weakness, not only the plainly evident lack of harmony within the Faculty, but also the practical demonstration it furnished of the Faculty's lack of real power. The reasons for this go back once more to the act establishing the University, which allowed the Regents to delegate to the Faculties only such authority as they saw fit, in practice not any too much, for the Regents maintained apparently a close and personal supervision over the University. This was shown by the habit of some members of the Board, notably Major Kearsley of Detroit, of conducting final oral examinations at the end of the term. Major Kearsley, a veteran of the War of 1812, was something of a martinet and prided himself upon his learning; so he usually gave the students a very hard time. He was soon dubbed "Major Tormentum" from majora tormenta, the name given big guns, or cannon, in a Latin "Life of Washington" then used in the classes. His visits finally ceased after the students found out how to deal with him and came loaded with "grape and canister," as one member of the class of '48 put it, to return his heavy fire.

From its earliest days the University insisted upon maintaining a non-sectarian character, but this did not imply any lack of religious training or supervision,—quite the contrary, as has been suggested. The scarcity of representatives of the cloth on the first Board of Regents did not pass unremarked, and it was but a short time before several clergymen, one a Catholic priest, became members of the governing body, to offset the preponderance of lawyers and politicians and to furnish the Board the benefits of their presumably wider experience in educational matters. Every effort was made, however, to keep a proper balance among the different persuasions, and all the Protestant churches came to feel that they had almost a vested right to representation, as the long list of "Reverends" in the first Faculty list shows. Professor Williams was an Episcopalian; Dr. Whedon, a Methodist; Professor Agnew, a Presbyterian; and Professor Ten Brook, a Baptist. Whenever a vacancy occurred, the question of religious affiliations was at least as important in the ultimate selection of the candidates, as any qualifications in the subject to be taught. This situation naturally led to a certain degree of rivalry, partisanship, and lack of co-operation in the Faculty.

To this the lack of a Chancellor during those earlier years only added further confusion. From the first the Regents had proposed the appointment of such an officer, but in the absence of any clear notion of their authority and his precise duties the matter was allowed to lapse, until the financial difficulties of the early years after the University opened made it clearly obvious that such an officer would be something of a luxury. The matter was settled by making each professor in turn President, or Principal, for one year, a practice which continued until the appointment of President, or Chancellor, Tappan in 1852. This alternation in office was approved as eminently democratic and as following the practice of the German Universities, the ideal of the time. In a report submitted by the Board of Visitors in 1850, the plan was commended and it was even urged that the monarchical feature of a Chancellor should be struck out of the Organic Law, and the system then in force thereby fixed for all time.

Nevertheless the plan was none too successful in application. There was too much opportunity for jealousy and too little central authority. This is shown plainly in the contest which arose over the hours of teaching as the numbers in the University grew. The emphasis in the curriculum upon the classics has been noted. This threw the burden of almost the whole course of study upon Professor Agnew after the services of a single tutor were dispensed with in 1846. Professors Whedon and Ten Brook were therefore called upon to assist him, which they did unwillingly, Professor Whedon finally refusing to hear further classes in Greek.

The trouble grew and finally resulted in the resignation of Professor Ten Brook in 1851, because of the opposition of three other members of the Faculty. In after years he came to consider this action a mistake; particularly as he had the respect and friendship of the Board of Regents, who brought about the downfall of his opponents within six months. This began in an action against Professor Whedon, who had for some time aroused opposition by his pronounced anti-slavery views. As a result of this feeling, on December 31, 1851, at the last session of the Board of Regents by appointment before a new Board elected under the new State Constitution was to take its place, a resolution was introduced requesting the removal of the Rev. D.D. Whedon for the reason that he had—

not only publicly preached, but otherwise openly advocated the doctrine called "the higher law," a doctrine which is unauthorized by the Bible, at war with the principles, precepts and examples of Christ and his Apostles, subversive alike of civil government, civil society, and the legal rights of individual citizens, and in effect constitutes, in the opinion of this Board, a species of moral treason against the Government.