Leaving Bryn Mawr, he was two years at Wesleyan University as professor of history and political economy, during which time he wrote “The State,” and in 1890 he accepted an offer of the chair of jurisprudence and politics in Princeton University. After fifteen years the young professor who had received the inspiration for his life work in the Princeton Library was back on the campus of his Alma Mater as a member of the faculty. His lectures sprang into popularity here as well as with his earlier professorships. Princeton had never in all its brilliant history had a teacher who so captivated his classes. Upwards of four hundred students in all were in attendance, absorbing his carefully ascertained and impressively presented facts of history, or fascinated by his original views of current events. His teaching was enlightened by sprightly humor. He spoke with the greatest freedom, often with utter abandon, concerning modern events and those concerned in them, putting the students on their honor not to report him and none of them ever violated his confidences.
Twelve years went by. It was a period of development with Woodrow Wilson. His mind mellowed. There was a ripening into maturity. As he continued his studies along the line of his bent a number of new books came from his pen. They were: “The State,” “Division and Reunion,” “An Old Master,” “Mere Literature” and “George Washington.” Later still appeared his masterly “History of the American People.” As he compared the conditions of government in this day with the ideals of government set up by the fathers of the Republic, and as he noted points of failure in the realization of these ideals, he was fired with a holy zeal to champion the cause of social justice.
In June, 1902, Woodrow Wilson was elected president of Princeton University. His thorough equipment, his proven capacity for leadership, his splendid scholarship, his eloquence and popularity as a speaker, his already widespread fame, his judgment and executive ability marked him as the man of the hour. His mettle had been tested in the faculty meetings when he had quickly made himself felt in his readiness in debate over the problems affecting the welfare of the campus and the college. His discernment, his preparedness for emergency, his loyalty, had been amply proven. He was the logical man for the place — this first layman in a list of presidents reaching back for one hundred and sixty years.
By his election a man who had no peer for genuine democracy was placed in supreme power in probably the most aristocratic educational institution in the United States. And this leaven of democracy mixed in with the fine flour of college aristocracy began soon to “work.” After a year of quiet but earnest study of conditions from the new point of view of the presidency, Doctor Wilson initiated and carried through to rapid success certain reforms. After seeing to it that the actual scholarship and discipline corresponded properly to what they were scheduled in the catalogue to be, demanding genuine work to win a diploma and banishing the social pull that had theretofore existed, Doctor Wilson laid his hand to the revision of the course of study. Princeton must not only be a place of work, but of work which should be intelligent and calculated to put the worker in a position best to serve society in the twentieth century.
The new president next secured the preceptorial system. Out of one hundred and sixty-eight hours a week, fifteen hours a week in the classroom were not considered sufficient by President Wilson for the proper education of the students entrusted to Princeton's care. They were no longer to be allowed to drift aimlessly through the weeks and the years. The institution was to give better attention toward direction of their spare time. To this end preceptors were employed at a great expense — for the new system involved an annual cost of about one hundred thousand dollars — and they were to supply friendly companionship and have oversight of studies. The informal, personal contact of the students with these preceptors has been of infinite value. The new system proved its worth from the outset, and the eyes of the educational world were turned upon Princeton which was thus forging to the front with a forcefully constructive programme.
President Wilson next attempted a reorganization of the social life of the campus. For ten years he had been turning over in his mind a plan by which the exclusive clubs patronized by the wealthier of the upper classmen might be superseded by a number of “quadrangles,” dormitories in which a certain number of men from each class together with several instructors should have their domicile. This would assure a commingling of all the students, the upper classmen demonstrating the value of the college training they were receiving and the lower classmen, through personal contact, receiving an impetus and inspiration for their further college career. As it was, Princeton had a dozen “swell” club-houses, to which only students possessed of large means could afford to belong. The aggregate value of these buildings and their elegant furnishings was upwards of a million dollars. The membership averaged about fifteen seniors and fifteen juniors each, the members of these two classes alone being eligible. Some three hundred or more other members of the senior and junior classes were excluded. Freshmen and especially sophomores engaged in fierce rivalry in their efforts to “make” a club. Their spirit was the dominant character-forming influence on the Princeton campus. It can readily be imagined how eagerly the democratic heart of President Wilson was throbbing in his desire to overthrow this pernicious system so alien to the American ideal.
A committee of seven trustees presented a report at the commencement of 1907, endorsing the President's plan for “the social co-ordination of the University” and the report was accepted. There were twenty-seven trustees. Twenty-five voted for the plan and one against. One member was absent. A circular outlining the plan was sent to the clubs and was read there by hundreds of returned alumni on the Friday night before commencement of the same year 1907. A cry of protest went up and continued through the year. The Alumni Weekly carried communications attacking the President for his high-handed attempts to “make a gentleman chum with a mucker,” or to force men “to submit to dictation as to their table companions.” The trustees, frightened by the noise the alumni had raised, on October 17 requested President Wilson to withdraw the proposition.
Yet another matter of serious controversy arose with the question of the establishment of a Graduate College. Bequests made for this purpose contained conditions which seemed to require of President Wilson that he should abrogate powers which he believed it his duty to exercise, and this he refused to do. It ended in Princeton getting her magnificent Graduate College — and losing her president. Mr. Wilson felt that he could be of no more service to Old Nassau. When therefore an opportunity to serve his fellow men came with the Democratic nomination to the governorship of New Jersey, he accepted it, and doubtless gladly, for it opened the avenues of statesmanship and public service for which his whole life had been an unconscious preparation.
New Jersey had begun to feel the effects of the great political reform movement sweeping the country and Democratic leaders knew that the state could not be won for their party unless a strong, clean man led the ticket. Woodrow Wilson's splendid campaign to make Princeton a truly American institution had caught the eye of the whole country. He had been a life long Democrat. New Jersey had within her borders the very man the party needed. The state was at the mercy of the big interests. Mr. Wilson hesitated to give his consent to consider the nomination, and