Fourteen years later, in April of 1882, Charles Thompson wrote a letter to
the trustees of the Institute to tell them two things to which he
characteristically gave equal emphasis. The first concerned the need for an
instructor in chemistry; the second, his intention to resign. Actually the two
were one and the same thing, for he himself had been the teacher of
chemistry. The letter was nevertheless divided neatly into two parts as if he
wished to postpone the real issue as long as possible. "I find myself at an
age," he finally wrote with distaste, "when no man can safely defer longer
some preparation for possible infirmity and for the comfort of his family."
For three years, he explained, his salary had not covered his expenses.
The new position which he had accepted was the first presidency of Rose
Polytechnic Institute in Indiana, where he had been offered considerably
more salary, a house free from rent, and a bonus of ten thousand dollars for
moving. There was also to be a ten-month trip to Europe.
It would never have occurred to Professor Thompson to ask the Institute
to match this extravagant offer. He knew all too well "if there is an increase in
the treasury, it will be met by a corresponding increase in the needs of the
Institute." The school had attempted far more than that which would
normally be expected from a school with such limited income. That it had
done so well was accountable to the most stringent economy and sacrifice
on the part of its teachers.
The first reaction to Professor Thompson's letter was shock. "We accept
his resignation with anxiety and concern for this Institute," said Stephen
Salisbury.
Then strangely the school on the hill stood straighter. Destiny had
reached across the multitude to tap the shoulder of a favorite son; the whole
community basked in the warm compliment.
In the first interview Charles Thompson had had with Emory Washburn
and Seth Sweetser, long before the school was built, ten years had been set
as the time allowed for the educational experiment. Now the decade had
passed, and the flattering invitation to Professor Thompson was good proof
that the experiment had been successful.
As John Woodman had prophesied at the dedication of Boynton Hall, the
graduates of the school had made its reputation. Professor Thompson
proudly reviewed the achievements of his boys. At least ninety-five per cent
were engaged in the occupations for which the school had trained them.
And, he added happily, "almost all are leading virtuous lives." He ought to
know, because he