The University Presidency

THERE are at least four features which distinguish university work in America and exercise a decisive influence upon the form of government in American universities.

The first grows out of the universal democracy of the country and the common ambitions of the people. Every one who shares in the spirit of the country wants to go to the top, and continually hears that he may, if he will seize his opportunities. He has no thought of following his father’s work, unless, as is quite improbable, it is in line with his special ambitions. The need of the higher training for all kinds of work involving mental aptitude is now everywhere recognized. The secondary schools have become a part of the common school system, and every teacher in high school or academy leads his students very near to the point of thinking that they will lose their chance in life, and even be discredited,if they do not advance to college or university. The university life is now specially attractive to the young, and they want a share in the pleasure and enthusiasm of it. This brings to the universities great numbers who in other days never went to college; who in other lands would not go now. Many of these must be both led and pushed.

Then, the common thought about liberal education has changed. It is no longer only classical, culturing, disciplinary: it must prepare students not only for the multiplying professions, but for the multiplying industries. It trains one for work, but work which may distinguish him. Cultivated aimlessness is no longer the accepted ideal of American scholarship. Culture which is not the product of work, either mental or manual, with some definite point to it, is held to be at secondhand, only skin-deep, and not to be taken seriously. It must not be said that mere strength and steadiness in holding down a job are the marks of an educated man. There must be native resourcefulness and versatility, sound training and serious study, discrimination in means and methods, and rational applications to real things in life, in ways that bring results of some distinct worth to the world. It makes little difference what one does, but he must do something. The all-important fact is not that real learning may now be found in all businesses,— though that is important, —but that one must do something of recognized value, to be held a scholar. It may be not only in letters, or science, or law, or medicine, or theology, but it may be also in administration, in planning and constructing, in mechanics, in agriculture, in banking, in public service, in anything else worth while.

If one’s powers of observation, of investigation, of expression, and of accomplishment, lead him to do something of real concern, to do it completely and quite as well as, or better than, others can do it, and impel him to open up new vistas and methods of doing other things of larger moment, he has a better right to be held an educated man than he who incubates the unpotential and brings forth nothing. And not only have educational values changed, but educational instrumentalities have changed. Books and academic discussions have their part, but in many directions it is now a minor part. Things are taught and learned, new insight and the power to do are gained, through actual doing. And not only is the training through doing rather than through reading and talking, but the opportunity of selection extends to every subject and every study. It requires buildings and equipment and teachers never before within the means of an institution. It has revolutionized the scope, the possessions, the plans and methods, the offerings, and the outlook of the universities. While this is coming to be true in a measure in other countries, the unconventional freedom, the industrial aggressiveness, and the unparalleled volume of money going into university operations in this country have given us the leadership of a New-World movement in higher education.

Again, university revenues come from men who have done things and want other things done. It is exclusively so in the private institutions, and the people and their representatives who vote appropriations to the state universities have no other thought. While few are so shortsighted as to be opposed to a balanced and harmonious university evolution, still,money is provided more freely for the kinds of instruction in which the providers are most interested. This, of course, gives shape and trend to the development. But it does more: it creates the need of teachers not heretofore adequately prepared or not prepared in adequate numbers. The vastness, the newness, and the unpreparedness of it all create the need of general oversight and close administration. Even more, when teachers are not supported by student fees,but are paid from the university treasury without reference to the number of students they teach, or very sharp discrimination about the quality of work they do, there is no automatic way of getting rid of teachers who do not teach or of investigators who do not produce. Some competent and protected authority must accomplish this and continually reinforce the teaching staff with virile men. The competition between institutions rather than between men, and the natural reluctance at deposing a teacher, are producing pathetic situations at different points in many American universities, and are likely to become the occasion of more weakness in our university system than has been widely realized.

Yet again, the sentiment of this country does not agree, and doubtless will never agree, that American universities shall stand for mere “scholarship” without reference to character, or that boys shall be allowed to go to the devil without hindrance, for the lack of university leadership, or to accommodate administrative cowardice or convenience. Students will have to be controlled and guided in this country, and American universities will have to have leaders who are leaders of morals as well as of learning, and who will stir the common sense, and use the common sentiment, through the authoritative word spoken in the crowd.

One may lament that our universities are not copied upon German or English models; that overwhelming numbers of students are going to them; that not all who go are serious students; that we are moving in new educational directions; that our professors are not made to live on fees; and that there is neither a care for superficial culture without much regard for true scholarship, nor a vaunting of mere scholarship without reference to moral character. The labor is lost. These things are so: they are right because they are so; because they are the outgrowth of the compounding of a great new nation in the world, and because they are the logical outworkings of a marvelous advance in the thinking of men who are free to do some thinking for themselves.

It is hardly worth while to be troubled because we cannot see the road beyond the turns that are ahead. There is a road beyond the turns, — or one will be made. President Pritchett of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in a recent address at the University of Michigan, published in the September Atlantic, discusses, without answering, the question, “Shall the University become a business corporation?” Dr. Pritchett ordinarily does things exactly and completely. He can answer questions,— particularly when he asks them of himself. He did not answer this one because the answer is so obvious. He used his question to express a very common skepticism. Of course the university cannot become a business corporation, with a business corporation’s ordinary implications. Such a corporation is without what is being called spiritual aim, is without moral methods. Universities are to unlock the truth and turn out the best and the greatest men and women; business corporations are mainly, if not exclusively, to make money. If this is a harsh characterization, it cannot be denied that it has been earned by the great business corporations with which the great universities must be compared if they are to be compared with any. A university cannot become such a corporation without ceasing to be a university. The distinguishing ear-marks of an American university are its moral purpose, its scientific aim, its unselfish public service, its inspirations to all men in all noble things, and its incorruptibility by commercialism. But that is no reason why sane and essential business methods should not be applied to the management of its business affairs. It is a business concern as well as a moral and intellectual instrumentality, and if business methods are not applied to its management it will break down. If they are not to be employed, the university, with its vast accumulations of materials and men, must be a mistake,or, worse yet, a wrong. It is neither a mistake nor a wrong, or it would not be here. It is neither an accident nor an impulse; it is a growth, the deliberate product of conditions, of means, and of thought. It is a great combination of material resources and moral forces essential to modern competitions, the needed inspiration of all factors in the population for large areas of territory, and its usefulness depends upon giving the management both moral sense and worldly knowledge.

The responsible authorities in the management of a university are the trustees, the president, and the faculty. Legal enactments settle in some measure the exact functions of each, but common knowledge of the kinds of government which succeed when much property and many interests are involved, as well as the imperative necessities of the particular situation, have gone much further to establish the governmental procedure in the university. While the immediate purpose is to exploit the functions and powers of the university president, some reference, necessarily brief, must be made to the prerogatives and duties of the trustees and faculty.

A vital principle in all government involving many cares and interests is tersely expressed in the statement that bodies legislate and individuals execute. It goes without saying that legislation must be by a body which is both morally responsible and legally competent, and common observation proves to us that it must concern an actual situation, to be of any real worth. If it involves special knowledge, it must be by men who have the knowledge or who will respect the opinions of others who have it.

Trustees, as the representatives of the founders or donors, or of the state, are practically, if not altogether, unknown to foreign universities. Those universities are managed directly by the government, or by the faculties, or by both. The introduction of trustee management into American universities has resulted necessarily from their more democratic character, from their different manner of support, from their independence of the government, and from the difference between the political systems and popular purposes of the New World and the Old. With the early development of American universities it was obvious enough that they could not be left to the management of political officers; that they must be managed without partisanship and governed by law rather than supervised by legislatures; and as they have taken shape it has been equally clear that the appointment of teachers and the assignment of resources to departments could not be left to the faculties. The special circumstances of the universities, and the practically uniform plan of corporate management in America, developed the board of trustees in our universities, with functions and powers subordinate to and consistent with, and exercised in a similar manner with, those which are held by the sovereign legislative authority over all corporations. Trustees stand for the legislature so far as the law permits.

The trustees of a university are charged by law, either statutory or judge-made, or by widely-acknowledged usage, with that general oversight and that legislative direction which will assure the true execution of a trust. They are to secure revenues and control expenditures. They are to prevent waste and assure results. They are never to forget that they represent the people who created and who maintain the university. They are not to represent these people as a tombstone might, — but as living men may. They are to do the things their principals would assuredly do if in their places, to enlarge the advantage to the cestui que trust. This is a heavy burden. It must be assumed that it is given to picked men who are specially able to bear it; who would not give their time to it for mere money compensation, but are happy in doing it for the sake of promoting the best and noblest things.

The trustees do not live upon the campus, and they are not assumed to be professional educationists. Their judgment is likely to be quite as good as to the relations of the work to the public interests, and as to what the institution should do to fulfill its mission, as that of any expert would be. To get done what they want done, they must enact directions and appoint competent agents. The individual trustee has no power of supervision or direction not given to him by the recorded action of the Board. What they do is to be done in session, after the modification of individual opinions through joint and formal discussion. It must be reduced to exact form and stand in a permanent record. Trustees make a mess of it when they usurp executive functions, and they sow dragons’ teeth when they intrigue with a teacher or hunt a job for a patriot who thinks he is in need of it. They are bound to regard expert opinion and to appoint agents who can render a more expert service than any others who can be procured. They are to keep the experts sane, on the earth, in touch with the world, as it were. They are to sustain agents and help them to succeed, and they are to remove agents who are not successful. From a point of view remote enough and high enough, they are to inspect the whole field. They are bound to be familiar with all that the institution is doing. They are to be alert in keeping the whole organization free from whatever may corrupt, and up to the very top notch of efficient public service. There is too much money involved to permit of idle experimentation, too high interests at stake to allow of vacillation and uncertainty. Under a responsibility that is unceasing and unrelenting they must learn the truth and never hesitate to act upon it. And they must find their abundant reward, not in any material return to themselves, but in the splendid fact that the great aggregation of land and structure and equipment, of great teachers and aspiring students, of sacred memories and precious hopes and potential possibilities, is doing the work of God and man in the most perfect way and in the largest measure which their knowledge and experience, their entire freedom, and their combined wisdom and forcefulness can devise.

The business of university faculties is teaching. It is not legislation and it is not administration, — certainly not beyond the absolute necessities. There is just complaint because the necessities of administration take much time from teaching. It lessens the most expert and essential work which the world is doing. It seldom enlarges opportunity or enhances reputation. It is true that teachers have great fun legislating, but it is not quite certain that, outside of their specialties, they will ever come to conclusions, or that if they do, their conclusions will stand. The main advantage of it is the relaxation and intellectual dissipation they get out of it. That is great. And, in a way, it may be as necessary as it is great. Of course teachers could not endure it if they were always to conduct themselves out of the classroom as most of them seem to think they are obliged to do in it. Perhaps others would also have difficulty in enduring it. They are given to disorderliness and argumentation beyond any other class who stand so thoroughly for doing things in regular order. It is not strange. It is the inevitable reaction, — what some of them would call the psychological antithesis, I suppose. Nor is it to be repressed or regretted, for it adds to the effectiveness and attractiveness of the most effective and attractive people in the world. All this is often particularly true of the past masters in the art. No wonder that Professor North, who taught Greek for sixty years at Hamilton College, — “Old Greek,” as many generations of students fondly called him, — wrote in his diary that it would have to be cut in the granite of his tombstone that he “died of faculty meetings,” for he was sure that some day he would drop off before one would come to an end.

But the needs of the profession ought to be met by directing the surplus of physical and intellectual energy into really useful and potential channels, such as sports, or battling over academic questions with the doughty warriors of other universities.

Speaking seriously, university policies are not to be settled by majority vote. They are to be determined by expert opinion. The very fact of extreme expertness in one direction is as likely as not to imply lack of it in other directions. Experts are no more successful than other people in settling things outside of their zone of expertness. Within that they are to have their way so long as they sustain themselves and the money holds out. But the resources are not to be equally divided for mere convenience. University rivalries are not to be adjusted by treaties between the rivals. More of university success depends upon keeping unimportant things from being done in a mistaken way than upon developing useful policies and pursuing them in the correct way. Men and work are to be weighed, not counted. Department experts are to determine department policies, college experts college policies, and university experts university policies.

What the President of the United States is to the Federal Congress, the president of the university is to the board of trustees. It has not long been so, because American universities are recent creations. When colleges were small, when the care of their property was no task, when all of a college were of one sect, and theology was the main if not the only purpose, when there was but one course of study, and the instruction was only bookish and catechetical, administration was no problem at all. There was nothing to put a strain on the ship. Even though there was no specific responsibility and no delegation of special functions, with immediate accountability, possessions did not go to waste, frauds did not creep in, and injustice and paralysis did not ensue. It may easily be so now in the smaller colleges; it cannot be so in the great universities. The attendance of thousands of students, the enlargement of wealth and of the number of students who go to college without any very definite aim, the admission of women, the more luxurious and complex life, the greater need of just and forceful guidance of students, the multiplication of departments, the substitution of the laboratory for the book, the new and numberless processes, the care of millions of property and the handling of very large amounts of money, and the continual and complete meeting of all the responsibilities which this great aggregation of materials and of moral and industrial power owes to the public, have slowly, but logically and as a matter of course, developed the modern university presidency. It is the centralized and responsible headship of a balanced administrative organization, with specialized functions running out to all of the innumerable cares and activities of the great institution. It is the essential office which holds the right of leadership, which has the responsibility of initiative, which is chargeable with full information and held to be endowed with sound discretion, which may act decisively and immediately to conserve every interest and promote every purpose for which the university was established.

It may be well to specify and illustrate. Conditions are not wholly ideal in a university. Men and women not altogether ripe for translation have to be dealt with. Real conditions, often unprecedented, have to be met. Not only effectiveness within, but decent and helpful relations with neighbors, constituents, and the world, are to be assured. Some authority must be able to do things at once, and some word must often be spoken to or for the university community. When spoken, it must be a free word, uttered out of an ample right to speak.

An American university may be possessed of property worth from three to fifty millions of dollars. This is in lands and buildings and appliances and securities. These things may be legislated about, but that alone is not caring for them. To keep them from spoliation and make the most of them, there must be expert care through a competent department, but in harmonious relations with an ever-present power which has the right and responsibility of declaring and doing things.

The very life of the institution depends upon eliminating weak and unproductive teachers and reinforcing the teaching body with the very best in the world. Unless there is scientific aggressiveness in the search of new knowledge, some very serious claims must be abandoned and some attitudes completely changed. No board ever got rid of a teacher or an investigator — no matter how weak or absurd — except for immorality known to the board and likely to become known to the public. The reason why a board cannot deal with such a matter is the lack of individual confidence about what to do, and of individual responsibility for doing either something or nothing. But, with three or four hundred in the faculty, the need of attention to this vital matter is always present and urgent. No board knows where new men of first quality are to be found; no board can conduct the negotiations for them or fit them into an harmonious and effective whole. The man who is fitted for this great burden and who puts his conscience up against his responsibility can hardly be expected to tolerate the opposition of an unsubstantial sentiment which would protect a teacher at all hazards, or the more subtle combination of selfish influences which puts personal over and above public interests when the upbuilding of a university is the task in hand.

Not only must the teaching staff be developed, — the work must be organized. It must develop a following, connect with the circumstances and purposes of a constituency, and lead as well as it can up to the peaks of knowledge. It is not necessary that all universities cover the same lines of work or have the same standards. It is not imperative that all have the same courses or courses of the same length. It is necessary that all serve and uplift their people. But how ? A master of literature will say through classical training and literary style; a scientist will say through laboratories; a political economist will say through history and figures and logic; an engineer will say through roads and bridges and knowledge of materials, and the generation and transmission of power and skill at construction; and a professional man will say through building up professional schools, providing no mistake be made about the particular kind of school. Some one of wide experience, having a scholar’s training and sympathies, possessed of a judicial temperament and of decision as well, must have the responsibility and the initiative of distributing resources justly as between the multifarious interests, and binding them all into an harmonious and effective whole.

Difficult as that is, it is not the heaviest burden of university leadership. Ideals must be upheld and made attractive: they must be sane ideals which appeal to real men, — and not only to old men, but to young men. There must be no mistaking of dyspepsia for principle, no assumption that character grows only when powers fail; but a rational philosophy of life by which men may live as well as die.

Nor is this all. There must be forehandedness. Some one must be charged with the responsibility of peering into the future and leading forward. New and yet more difficult roads must be broken out. Some one in position to do it must be active in initiating things. He must see what will go, — and, quite as clearly, what will not go. Subtle but fallacious logic — and a vast deal of it — must be resisted, greed combated, conceits punctured, resources augmented, influences enlarged, forces marshaled for practical undertakings, and the whole enterprise made to give a steadily increasing service to the industrial, professional, political, and moral interests of a whole people.

Then there is the management and guidance of students. One may as well complain because this country is a democracy as repine because the sons and daughters of the masses want to go to college. There is no ground for regret in the fact that our universities are not just like some universities over the seas. We have much to learn from them and we are likely to learn much. We have quite as much to avoid. It seems too much to expect to work un-American ideas, and perhaps loose habits, out of American students who study in Europe, when they come home. Our universities are different from the universities in other countries, because of our circumstances and political history, because of our spirit and outlook. That is reason enough why they should be different.

It is useless to question whether all who come to the higher educational institutions are wise in coming. They are coming. The work will have to be broad enough and adaptable enough to meet their needs. Nor is it worth while to bewail the fact that not all who come are serious students. Their purposes are good enough and serious enough according to their lights. Their preparation is what has been exacted by the university and provided by the high school. Some of them have to be pulled up and pushed along, but the process often brings out most unexpected results. Students are not all angels, but every student is worth being helped by an angel up to an angel’s place. The task is upon the people who undertake to manage universities.

Students have to be directed in companies, but dealt with individually. They may be directed by a rule; when they break the rule they must be dealt with by a man. It must be a man who can stand pat for all that ought to inhere in a university; but such a man will get on best if, in addition to being able to stand pat, he is able to like boys; he is likely to get on still better if he was once a rather lively boy himself; or, at least, if he is a kind of man for whom a boy with some ginger in him can find it in his heart to have, not only considerable respect, but some regard and admiration.

This is not saying that college students are to be treated like children. It is not implied that they are to be excused for being ruffians. Quite the contrary is true. They are to be held exactly responsible to law and rule and all well-known standards of decent living. There must be less viciousness in the life of American universities, or they must and ought to suffer seriously for it. It is to be resented and punished far more forcefully than it has been. Students who get into this kind of thing and persist in staying in are to be punished, even to the point of being thrust out — and even though it changes the course of their lives and breaks the hearts of fathers and mothers. The good of all is the overwhelming consideration. A university is to be a university, and not something else. Of all institutions, it is to stand for character and ideals. The universities are not to be closed and all youth denied their advantages because a few abuse their privileges. The punishment of the bad, if there are any bad, is the protection of all the rest. It is an essential safeguard to safe administration and the wholesome living of the crowd. But is it not better to go farther and hold all the boys we can from going to the dogs by keeping in sympathy and touch with them, than it is to encourage them into deviltry through the coldness or the downright dullness or nervelessness or cowardliness of an administration ?

The logic of the situation puts this burden upon the president, or upon one working with singleness of purpose with him. Perhaps the president cannot deal with all directly, but that is no reason why he should not go as far as he may. He must assume responsibility for management, giving the right turn and inspiration to it. It is essentially an executive function. The sun may well avail himself of the help of a cloud to save his face when a board of trustees begins to make preachments filled with benevolent advice to a body of students; and even the man in the moon may be excused if he shuts one eye in contemplation at the spectacle of a university senate of many members undertaking to deal with a college boy in a scrape.

So much in reference to routine. The president who only follows routine, of course falls short. He is to construct as well as administer. He must initiate measures winch will result in larger facilities, in added offerings and enterprises, in searching out new knowledge, in the wider application of principles to work, and not only in the usual, but in the better training of men and women for distinct usefulness in life. He is not only to see that plans are within the limits of revenues, that the physical condition of the plant improves, that everything is clean and attractive, that the faculty is scientifically productive, that the instruction is exact and the spirit true; but he is to take the steps which will keep the whole organization moving ahead. He must adopt and promote and give full credit for movements initiated by others when their propositions are safe and practicable, — but he must also be alert in stopping movements which will not go.

Perhaps more important than all, the president is to declare from time to time the best university opinion concerning popular movements and the serious interests of the state. He must connect the university with the life of the multitude, and exert its influence for the quickening and guidance of that public opinion which, as Talleyrand said, is more powerful than all the monarchs who ever lived or all the laws which were ever declared.

The unity and security of a university can be assured only through accountability to a central office. While every one is to have freedom to do in his own way the thing he is set to do, so long as his way proves to be a good way, the harmony of the whole depends upon the parts fitting together and upon definiteness of responsibility and frequency of accountability. No self-respecting man is going to administer a great office, or an office responsible for great results, and have any doubt about possessing the powers necessary or incident to the performance of his work. He will have enough to think of without having any doubt upon that subject. There need be no fear of his being too much inflated with power. There will be enough to take the conceits out of him and keep him upon the earth. If he cannot exercise the powers of his great office, and yet keep steady and sane, there is no hope for him and he will speedily come to official ruin. It is not a matter of uplifting or of inflating a man; but of getting a man who can meet the demands of a great situation.

One fit to be trusted with large powers does not boast of them, and he does not need to exercise them very often. He will not go swaggering about, as the beadle does in Dickens’s story, always pounding with his staff and proclaiming that the supreme occasion has now come for which he was created a parochial beadle. If large powers are over-used or abused, the man who does it comes to an early official end. The fact of the presence of such powers makes the occasions for their exercise less frequent than they otherwise would be. There is, happily, a higher law in administration, as in everything else, and it both supports and limits the use of means to the accomplishing of ends.

Distinct and decisive authority in both the legislative and executive branches of university government is vital to peace and productivity. Nothing is so disheartening as chaotic conditions without law and leadership. There is small danger from autocrats in America or tyrants in American universities. There is more danger from mistaken reasoning about the means and methods by which the sentiment of a democratic people may have its expression and their wishes have result. Decisive executive authority is not at all inconsistent — it is thoroughly consistent — with democracy in government and freedom in universities. Democracies are as much entitled as any other form of government to have their purposes executed and get things done. Objections to this are sometimes offered, and then, of course, they are placed upon public grounds, but in fact they rest upon personal considerations. The men who see dangers in leadership, and in the supports which aid leadership, are the men who find it in the way of their peculiar views or personal ambitions; and rather singularly they are also the men who, having any measure of independent control themselves, bloom into as sizable specimens of the species martinet as can develop in purely democratic conditions.

Of course, no one can realize the hopes which centre in a university presidency, without being able to work harmoniously with others. There must be true deference to the opinions of many, and scrupulous recognition of the just, though unexpressed, claims of all. But we must never forget that administrative freedom is quite as inviolable as any other freedom, even in a university. The president must mark out his official course for himself, and bear the responsibility of it without cavil. He must expect to suffer criticism and opposition, even contumely. He cannot expect that the work he has to do will make every one happy. It will discomfit many. In one way or another they will give him all the trouble they can. The protests will be loudest because of the very acts for which his office has been developed. But he may comfort himself with the reflection that if the job were not so heavy there would be a cheaper man to manage it, and that the extent of the opposition is often the measure of real presidential business that is being performed. In any event, his only hope is in success, and he cannot go around the duty which confronts him without inevitable failure. Conditions may easily make a mere compromiser of him. If they do, the waves will speedily close over his official remains forever. Some choice and magnanimous spirits will help him; but he need entertain no doubt that there will be plenty more on every side to try out the stuff that is in him, and that they will diligently attend to the trying-out process until enough occurs to convince them that his wisdom, his rational conception of his task, his love of justice and sense of humor, his constructive planning, his independence, and his fearlessness, are sufficient to ignore little people and prove him worthy of as great an opportunity for usefulness and honor as ever comes to any man.

All this calls for a rare man. He ought, in the first place, to be reasonably at peace with mankind and in love with youth. He must have the gift of organizing and the qualities of leadership. He ought to have been trained in the universities, not only for the sake of his own scholarship, but that he may be wholly at home in their routine and imbued with their purposes. He must be moved by public spirit as distinguished from university routine or mere scholarly purpose. He must be a scholar, — but not necessarily in literature or science or moral philosophy. It is quite as well if it is in law, or engineering, or political history. He must be sympathetic with all learning. He can no longer hope to be a scholar in every study. He can hardly hope to administer such a trust or fill such a post without some knowledge of and considerable aptitude for law. His sense of justice must be keen, his power of discrimination quick, his judgment of men and women accurate; his patience and politeness must give no sign of tiring, and the strength of his purpose to accomplish what needs to be done must endure to the very end. Yet he must determine differences and decide things. He must have the power of expression, as well as the more substantial attainments. Beyond possessing sense, training, outlook, experience, resistive power, decision, and aggressiveness, he ought to be a forceful and graceful writer and at least an acceptable public speaker. In a word, the president of an American university is bound to be not only one of the most profound scholars,but quite as much one of the very great, all-around men of his gen eration.