Sewanne's Old Lion: A Eulogy for Robert S. Lancaster 1909-2007

Robert Lancaster, who was a man of many parts, occasionally contributed reviews and poems to the Sewanee Review as well as the tribute to Andrew Lytle that Robert Benson quotes in his eulogy. He supported the magazine in many ways, and a fund for it is named in his memory.—Ed.

Theodore Roosevelt died on January 6, 1919, and his son Archie sent a one-sentence telegram to his brother Kermit that read "The old lion is dead." And today we can say that perhaps the last of Sewanee's old lions is dead, and many in this community sense that the death of Robert S. Lancaster is a momentous event that marks more than the end of a good man's long and full life. From his arrival at the Sewanee Military Academy in 1931 until his retirement from teaching in the college in 1979 and even in the long years of his retirement, he served the University of the South in many ways and with deep affection. His titles and offices included professor of political science, dean of the college, and director of development. He was devoted to this university and did well whatever he was asked to do for her sake. Some remember the Red Dean and tremble. Many who were his students became lifelong friends. Many have come today to pay their respects and say goodbye, drawn by memory and by the conviction that Red saw the good in them and that his authority and his friendship helped them to know themselves better and more honestly.

In African Game Trails Roosevelt wrote, "I doubt whether any man takes keener enjoyment in the wilderness than he who also keenly enjoys many other sides of life; just as no man can relish books more than some at least of those who also love horse and rifle and the winds that blow across lonely plains and through the gorges of the mountains." The academic and intellectual achievements of Robert Lancaster, who did so much for the University of the South, are well known, and they do not need to be rehearsed here. But any consideration of his life and achievements would miss the mark without recalling that he grew up in rural Virginia in the early years of the last century and was a woodsman and a hunter all of his life. He began hunting as a boy, and he was still an impressive wing shot into his eighties. He loved hunting, but he loved the company of other hunters more. His personal and professional behavior and his expectations of others were formed by the rural and woodland ethic of courage and prudence, civility and honor that were an essential part of his character. You can tell a great deal about a man's character by watching the way he shoots and the way he behaves in the field or in a duck blind. Wherever he was, Red was a gentleman, equally at ease in the company of plain country folk or in the councils of the great, equally at home in a hunting camp or in the Regents' Room. There was some conversation several years ago about having Red's pallbearers carry shotguns to the burial and fire a salute at the appropriate moment. It's not going to happen, but it would have been a fine and fitting tribute, and Red liked the idea.

His capacity for friendship and his intellectual vigor and honesty are evident in the variety of those who sought his company and his advice during the last years of his life. Confined to his home by long illness, he and Elizabeth offered generous hospitality to everyone. Nearly every afternoon for many years they welcomed visitors of all kinds, countrymen and intellectuals, soldiers and scholars, judges and vice-chancellors. Beautiful women sang in the living room overlooking Lost Cove, and the children of former students gave violin recitals to the delight of all. Occasionally song was required of nonmusical old men with less pleasant results. Some were more regular members of the large group, that became...