Vanderbilt University - Commodore Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

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14 ■ THE COM ET: As an illustration of these two factors in his decisions, may bo quoted his view of those much-abused instruments of civilized introduction, letters of personal recommendation. “Y«s,” he said, not a year ago, “yes, I like to read them. But (what a tremendous emphasis he could give an adversative) they come cheap in these days. I'd rather talk with a man half an hour than read his whole budget of recommendations.” He made mistakes; of course he made them. But it is simply marvelous what a way the almanac had of straightening up those mistakes. His failures had a wonderful knack of reappearing as successes. In conference work ho often surprised even the presiding elders, with whom the bishops were wont to advise on such matters, by mak- ing some unexpected and apparently unsuitable appointment; but many who at that time thought his judgment at fault, afterward acknowledged that events justified his decision. In the exercise of the power committed to his hands as a bishop, he was compelled at times to subject men to inconvenience and hardship. He sometimes saw that it was necessary to sacrifice the one for the good of the many. He took a broad view of church needs and church work. His eye swept the whole field, and he issued his commands from the standpoint of headquarters. He was a much misjudged man. This, to some extent at least, was inevitable. He was placed in a position where every act was closely scrutinized, and fearlessly, 1 might almost say mercilessly, criticized. How well he bore this scrutiny and this criticism, let the mourning Methodist church, from Oregon to Florida, testify. Most of his acts affected numbers of men, and involved conflicting interests. This necessitated disap- pointment and dissatisfaction, and it too often resulted in prejudice and harsh judgment. This prejudice was often intensified by the Bishop’s reserved and secretive caution, together with the unshakable tenacity with which he clung to his decisions when once made. His judgments he would state in the face of an adverse multi- tude; his reasons he would tell to few or none. “Brethren.” his slow reply came to two preachers who had come to his room after conference to intercede in behalf of a fellow-preacher who thought that he had been wronged in his appointment, “I have thought carefully over those appointments; I have taken counsel concerning them; 1 have prayed about them; BUT THEY ABE MADE.” And his two interviewers knew that in those words there was all the emphasis of Gibraltar. Bishop McTveire was often judged by outward appearance—seldom a safe test of motive and character. His very voice and manner belied his real nature. His tones were loud and sonorous, insomuch that the London papers, during his attendance upon the Ecumenical Conference, compared his voice to a foghorn; yet that voice knew how to croon and prattle to a little child, and to whisper words of comfort and strength

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-sN THE COMETS 13 and now gives shelter to one of the chief departments of Vanderbilt University. His rulings and constructions of church law and parliamentary proceedings took shape in his Manual of the Discipline, and will live as precedents and rules for the guidance of those who shall come after him. His analysis of the Discipline he drew up in the shape of questions and answers, and left to the church his Catechism of Church Government. His views of Methodist history were embodied in what will hereafter be the standard Southern volume on that subject. His opinions on the various measures of the church administration were wise and large, and he did much to develop and systematize foreign missions, church extension, woman’s work, Sunday schools, and the literary and educa- tional interests of bis denomination. Aside from these more tangible products of his labor, he was a wise counselor. His advice was sought by all classes of men, and on all manner of subjects; and it is safe to say that his opinions given in answer to such calls will live on in an enduring stream of influence running through thousands of human lives. He was pre-eminently, and by common agreement, a far-sighted man. It was natural to his judgment to forecast, not at hap-hazard, but upon wise grounds. The writer once heard him deliver a masterly address upon “Pure English” (and it is needless to say to those who knew him, that the address was an exemplification of the theme), in which he took occasion to excoriate the wrong uses of the word GUESS; and the number of words suggested by him as suitable to take its place, such as reckon, judge, think, conclude, showed the solid sagacity and logical methods on which lie did most of his guessing. He had a genius for planning, for founding, for organizing, for investing, which was simply invaluable in the spero of action to which he was called. Of course, he made mistakes. His wonderful prescience still fell far short of that omniscience which alone can see the end from the beginning. He was not infallible—did not claim to be. 11 is pathetic confession of his own short-comings, as he conceived them, in a watch-night talk to the boys of Wesley Hall, some years ago, will never be forgotten by those who heard him then. He was a remarkably accurate judge of men on short acquaintance; yet he himself used to relate a humorous instance of how once in a dis- trict conference he totally misgauged the calibre of a preacher with whose high forehead he had become infatuated on first sight. Hut in his selection of special men for specific purposes, he was probably without a superior. This faculty caused him to rely on his own judgment to a degree greater than is common among men. Some thought that lie relied too much upon it; some thought that he relied upon it as against all other things. Perhaps it was rather as summing up all other things; for, until final action had been taken, he turned a deaf ear to no source of information or counsel, however humble.

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THE COMETH- 15 where they were most needed. His manner seemed hard and dictatorial, and he was often pronounced an unapproachable man. Nothing could be further Ironi the truth. Those who knew him best realized how delicate were his sympathies, and how tender his feeling. What passed to the outer world for stolidity, or indifference, or pride, was but the magnificent will power of a self-poised man who suffered and rejoiced through a wide range of strong emotion, and who yet had that emotion under perfect control. Among the permanent results into which it has already been said that his work took shape, perhaps the noblest monument to his memory is Vanderbilt University. Without him, it would never have been. More than any other, his guiding hand mapped out its policy, and gave organic form to its various departments. More than any other, his broad shoulders and sagacious brain bore the burden of its vast and varied interests. In a comprehensive and thorough knowledge of the affairs of the University, it will do other great men no injustice to say that he was without an equal. Ilis acquaintance reached from the largest plan of financial endowment or expenditure down to the smallest minutia- of practical administration. His great grasp of mind embraced the general policy of the University, and yet his capacity for details was marvelous. He knew every closet in the buildings of the campus—every shrub on the grounds. Stroll- ing leisurely along the drives or walks, he was ever on the alert to all about him. He seemed almost ubiquitous. “For a man who walks as slowly as he does, he gets to an impossible number of places,” said one who watched his movements. Wherever work was going on, and wherever work was needed, there was he. Shortly after the dastardly attempt to burn the main building had been made, I met him one evening after dark, going toward the gymnasium. I happened to think of the coal-slide in the gymnasium, he said: “it has been left open, and I am going down to close it ui).” Taking a street car at the stile one day, he had scarcely seated himself before he noticed that the clouds were gathering; and, after riding some three hundred yards, he alighted ami walked back. I met him near the main building. “Tell Mr. Douglass to have that hay taken in,” he said; “it is going to rain.” Then he started back to the city—probably to a meeting of the Executive Committee or an important conference with the Treasurer. At another time, when he had just come from holding a consultation with reference to tilling a vacancy in the Faculty, 1 saw him passing along in front of one of the Uni- versity residences then in the hands of the mechanics. As he walked slowly by, his eye caught sight of an unlucky painter who had swung his paint bucket over the eves of the house, and his keen glance detected a stream of dark liquid trickling down upon a