My title is taken from a poem, “Tanto viro locuturi,” by the renowned satirist, Walter of Châtillon, who flourished in the latter part of the twelfth century (his dates are circa 1135–1203), that is, just at the time when the first universities were being formed at Paris, at Bologna, and at Oxford. “Quid dant artes nisi luctum et laborem?” reads the complete line: What do the arts give other than trouble and toil? Walter's poem is the bitter lament of a poor scholar unable to find a job and questioning the value of his years of hard study, expense, and self-denial. It is a lament, of course, that echoes through the ages, that we hear no less frequently in our own universities than the contemporaries of Walter of Châtillon seem to have heard it when the institution was first coming into being. Nowhere, perhaps, is it truer than in the tradition-bound institution of the university that “plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.” There is one obvious difference between the lament of Walter's poor scholar and our own. His is addressed to the pope. We know the power and the purse strings controlling our careers lie elsewhere than Rome.