Professor Coolidge's death reminds one that it is not always the most popular man who contributes most heavily to the cause to which he is sworn. Of Professor Coolidge's devotion to scholarship, and of his service to that cause there can be no question. Among Harvard's many scholars he yielded to none in the standards which he set for himself and which he attained.
But, held in affection among his colleagues and by graduate students, Professor Coolidge was not "popular" among undergraduates. Respected he was, yes, but not "popular". Too much of a scholar to play the demagogue; too serious in his purpose to provide sideshows; too busy in his cause to display the classroom antics whereof "traditions" are made, too sincere to curry favor, his loss is the greater.
Professor Coolidge, while he lived had no nickname, had no societies named after him, had no fan mail. He cared not for these-scholarship, his lecutres, his books, his missions, his duties as an editor and as director of the Widener Library, were enough. In them he had his life. In them he has his monument, more permanent than life.
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