Getting God Out of Princeton

At Princeton University, possibly America’s most beautiful college campus, the buildings themselves speak volumes. A perceptive visitor can see that school’s rich traditions neatly summarized in the architecture. First there is the University Chapel, a majestic structure patterned after the chapel of Kings College, Cambridge, dominating the central campus. A few doors down is Nassau Hall, Princeton’s oldest structure and once the nation’s temporary Capitol, now the school’s administrative headquarters. Behind it stand the stately Neoclassical twins, Whig and Clio Halls, where the country’s oldest undergraduate debating societies met in buildings constructed entirely by student funds. Just a few minutes away is Prospect Street, where the undergraduate eating clubs—again financed exclusively by students—conjure up images of F. Scott Fitzgerald and brisk male camaraderie. There is Old Princeton in a nutshell: a historic institution with a strong Christian identification; a school where undergraduate gentlemen made their own provisions for an active social life.

But that was the Old Princeton. Since the days of Fitzgerald and Woodrow Wilson, Nassau Hall has seen coeducation, the campus revolt, the demise of Princeton’s traditional football dynasty, and the consequent rise of a powerful conservative group known as the Concerned Alumni of Princeton. Like all other prestigious schools, Princeton has suffered from increasing competition, rising costs, and rampant egalitarian sentiment. The New Princeton, born in the last decade, is more homogenous, less distinctive. And during the coming academic year, while Concerned Alumni fret, bulwarks of the old tradition will be under siege. The college’s administration is planning to reform the University Chapel.

PL

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Philip F. Lawler

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At Princeton University, possibly America’s most beautiful college campus, the buildings themselves speak volumes. A perceptive visitor can see that school’s rich traditions neatly summarized in the architecture. First there is the University Chapel, a majestic structure patterned after the chapel of Kings College, Cambridge, dominating the central campus. A few doors down is Nassau Hall, Princeton’s oldest structure and once the nation’s temporary Capitol, now the school’s administrative headquarters. Behind it stand the stately Neoclassical twins, Whig and Clio Halls, where the country’s oldest undergraduate debating societies met in buildings constructed entirely by student funds. Just a few minutes away is Prospect Street, where the undergraduate eating clubs—again financed exclusively by students—conjure up images of F. Scott Fitzgerald and brisk male camaraderie. There is Old Princeton in a nutshell: a historic institution with a strong Christian identification; a school where undergraduate gentlemen made their own provisions for an active social life.

But that was the Old Princeton. Since the days of Fitzgerald and Woodrow Wilson, Nassau Hall has seen coeducation, the campus revolt, the demise of Princeton’s traditional football dynasty, and the consequent rise of a powerful conservative group known as the Concerned Alumni of Princeton. Like all other prestigious schools, Princeton has suffered from increasing competition, rising costs, and rampant egalitarian sentiment. The New Princeton, born in the last decade, is more homogenous, less distinctive. And during the coming academic year, while Concerned Alumni fret, bulwarks of the old tradition will be under siege. The college’s administration is planning to reform the University Chapel.