Astor: That was my first trip...in '33. I returned in '38 and of course went straight back to see dear old Madame Champlain at "Le Coq Rouge."
Real Traveler: '38, you say.
Astor (unsuspecting): Why yes. I remember especially because there was an absolutely gorgeous vintage that year. Madame Champlain was in ecstacies.
Traveler: But she died two years before. In '36.
Astor (trapped): Died...'36...of course, of course...But I was speaking of the younger Madame Champlain. Marvelous how these family traditions go on. Still at the same old "Coq" as we used to call it affectionately.
Traveler: The place was sold in '36 to a man called Schmidt who turned it into a beer garden.
Harvardman Ruined
Astor left college immediately. It is rumored that he became a traveling salesman operating out of Peoria.
Probably even more important than Travelmanship is Clothesmanship. Consider the case of Maxwell J. Suave, the greatest Clothesman of our time. Suave usually wore pretty dingy-looking clothes, most of which he bought off a pipe rack in a cutrate Brooklyn clothing store, but he gave the impression that the finest tailors in the world tended to his wardrobe. He would mention casually that he was writing off for some more socks to his favorite haberdashery in Cannes. "They know my feet intimately," he would say, "and they do make different socks for each foot." He sent himself huge bills from imaginary shops in London and Paris, accompanied by long technical letters discussing the special pleats for his next hunting jacket, or the exact size of the handkerchiefs he was having made for the breast pocket of his tuxedo.
As a matter of fact, Suave may be sitting next to you in the audience. You will recognize him by his fantastically colorful cap and gown--even though he is only a graduating senior. If you ask him he will tell you that it is for a little degree he picked up the summer he spent in Florence. "They simply forced it on me," he will say, "though personally I can't bear that touch of puce on the inner fold."
I think that the outlines of Harvardmanship are now clear. But you ask: How does Harvardmanship fit into the Greater Scheme of Things? What use is it to men who are leaving Harvard? The answer is that Harvardmanship is a vast life-encompassing science which cannot be affected by Commencement. When he graduates the Harvardman becomes a Harvardclubman--all one word, of course: Harvardclubman. So, for those of you who have not been Harvardmen while undergraduates, it is not too late. You still have most of your lives ahead of you: I urge you to embrace this science while you still have time.