In Memory of 2 Knights of Civility

Somewhere around 20 years ago, the article that is this blog caught my eye in the editorial section of an upstate New York newspaper. To give credit where credit is due, the piece was written by a man named Tom Bulger, and it says a thing that has been on my mind for a very long time–most of my life, actually. So, I share it with you here, with absolutely no editorializing on my part.

“Carl Niemeyer died last month. In his life, he had been a literature professor of no small repute. The obituaries also noted his many cultural and social activities. His death was a genuine loss to the Capital Region, though the vast majority of this community never was aware of his existence. What Shakespeare’s Augustus said about the death of Marc Antony could also with justice apply to this death: ‘The breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack.’

What obituaries never capture is the breadth and depth of individuals, who they were over and above what they did. Those who knew Carl Niemeyer were most impressed not by his achievements, but by his character: his generosity of mind and spirit, his caring, his gentleness, his humility, his courage. A friend of his, Janet Maclean, upon hearing of his death, said ‘He was the last gentleman.’ That’s arguably the best memorial any one man can ever have.

I never met Carl Niemeyer. My aquaintance with him was by reputation only. For that matter, I did not hear Janet Maclean’s euology; it was related to me by her husband, Hugh Maclean, a close colleague of Niemeyer. But the posthumous tribute caused me to reflect. Death is what John Donne calls ‘devotions upon emergent events.’

Out of these devotions, two salient thoughts emerged. The first is that the gentleman–the gentle man–is a vanishing breed. Chivalry is in the throes of a fatal hemorrhage. We live in a world where rudeness has won not only the battle, but also the war. For a variety of reasons (too numerous and too familiar to list here), our society has become singularly unreceptive to courtesy, a virtue central to any enlightened civilization. The operative code of survival at any cost in today’s world is little different from the naked aggresiveness of our primordial ancestors. Think about the messages our young receive from birth. Meekness is equated with weakness. Do unto others as they would do unto you–only do it first. The best defense is a good offense. Nice guys finish last and are subjected to scorn in the process. Children are not as a rule born to be wild; they become this way after years of drinking bitter milk.

This is why courtesy is so imperative to a society. The codes of the gentleman and the lady extend far beyond surface manners; embedded in these codes is a way of being that acknowledges, values, and venerates the worth of others. The Carl Niemeyers are stays against confusion, the wool that gives texture and integrity to our social warp.

My second thought emanates from the first. When I hear someone praise the dead, I wonder if those compliments have been rendered during life. Too often people are buried in their graves unadorned by the tributes they should have received in life. It is all too easy to take our loved and beloved for granted while they are still in our midst.

At the risk of appearing unmannerly, I must therefore disagree with Janet Maclean. Carl Niemeyer may have been one of the last gentle men, but the race is not extinct. I know of at least one other gentle man; Janet’s husband Hugh. The name will be familiar to some. Hugh being a distinguished professor emeritus of literature at the State University of Albany. But for most, the name will not conjure up the immediate recognition that occurs when they hear the names of local celebrities (politicians, socialites, media favorites).

For those who don’t know Hugh Maclean, it’s their significant loss. Generations upon generations of students flocked to his classes, not simply because of his academic reputation and knowledge, (which were and still are formidable), but because of his exemplary devotion to his students. He listened attentively to his students; he was always available to them; he did everything in his power to discover what John Milton calls the ‘secret excellence’ of each student. He treated them with the same respect and concern that he treats his family, friends, and colleagues. And while egotism is the rule rather than the exception for university professors, Hugh has ever remained self-effacing.

What is particularly impressive about Hugh Maclean’s gentleness is that it is hard-won. He has not had an easy life; he has had his share of difficulties. His is not a fugitive and cloistered virtue; he was a major in the Canadian Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders during World War II, a veteran of the European theater. Yet, throughout it all, he has preserved his civility. He is a real-life officer and gentleman.

Thanks to knights of courtesy like Carl Niemeyer and Hugh Maclean, the kindly flame of gentleness still burns. Death cannot quench this fire.”