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.