REV. GEORGE PALMER WILLIAMS, LL. D. A MEMORIAL DISCOURSE ON HIS LIFE AND SERVICES, DELIVERED IN UNI- BY JAMES V. CAMPBELL, LL. D., MARSHALL PROFESSOR OF LAW PROCEEDINGS ON THE DEATH OF REV. GEORGE PALMER WILLIAMS, LL.D. At a meeting of the University Senate, held September 5, 1881, the following memorandum relative to the death of Professor George P. Williams, was ordered to be placed on the minutes: With profound emotions the senate of the university has received intelligence of the death of its oldest member, Professor George Palmer Williams. Yesterday at sunrise he expired without a struggle, at the ripe age of seventy-nine years and four months. By this death is severed the last of those living links that connect the present condition of the university with its earliest history. Appointed to a professor's chair in 1841, Dr. Williams welcomed the first student that came to Ann Arbor for instruction; as president of the facuity he gave diplomas to the first class that graduated; and from the day of his appointment to the hour of his death his official connection with the university was never broken. During the whole of this long term of educational service many qualities of a high order shone out with peculiar luster in the life of Dr. Williams. His loyalty and devotion to the university were without reserve; his faith in the principles on which the institution is founded was unflagging; and the interest with which he watched the various phases of its development ended only with the approach of death. On the last day of his life his conversation frequently turned upon its condition and its interests. In his intercourse with his colleagues he was remarkable for the dignified courtesy of his bearing, the hearty warmth of his greetings, and the radiant humor of his conversation. His wit was proverbial; but it was so free from the bitterness of malice and the stings of sarcasm that it was always a source of pleasure, never a source of pain. To meet him was always a pleasure; to take his hand always a satisfaction. But it was in his relations with his pupils that the peculiar qualities of his nature were most marked. In extraordinary measure he impressed upon them his own character. Of the hundreds that sat under his instruction many, perhaps, have forgotten the science he taught; but there is probably not one that does not feel that he was made better by his friendly admonition or his fatherly advice. His bearing was felt to be a rebuke of every mean act. His interest in all his pupils had the gentle qualities of a personal and almost a paternal fondness; and hence it was but the natural and spontaneous expression of his heart that even to the end of his life he spoke of them all as "my boys." By his boundless sympathy and his fatherly interest many a wayward youth was turned into the path of true advancement; and there are not a few who look to his words and his influence as the beginning of a 1 new life. There are some who, if they would, might say with Samuel of old "Thy gentleness hath made us great." As the intelligence of the death of Dr. Williams goes over the country it will fall upon hundreds of hearts with the shock of a personal bereavement. Probably in every state in the Union there are those who will mourn his loss; but there is not one of his pupils who will not remember the lofty nobility of his character and the all-embracing charity of his affection, and who will not rejoice that it was his privilege to sit under the instruction of so true a friend and so good a man. We extend our hearty sympathies to the family of our friend in the hour of their bereavement; and we desire in a body to join with them in the last sad tribute to his earthly remains. ADDRESS OF HON. JAMES V. CAMPBELL. There are few more profitable possessions for any learned institution than the memories of those who have made their lives a part of its history. Removed from the daily round of labor and progress, with its cares, and doubts, and jealousies, as well as its passing triumphs, they cause no envy, and disturb no peace. They appear in a new light, as perpetual benefactors, whose hands have built enduring houses, and whose skill has set agencies in motion that may continue their work through distant years. Those who can recall their living presence, and tell their story, are heard as chroniclers of worthy themes. And when the time comes that never is very far off, when they and all who knew them in the flesh have passed into tradition together, their names are spoken tenderly, as children speak of honored ancestors. It needs no stretch of fancy to think of them as still gliding silently among the scenes of their earthly labors, and casting benignant glances on the young disciples who glean in the fields which they planted. The very earth which they trod, and the senseless walls which echoed their words, become imbued with associations that sometimes last when the busy scenes have ceased to be busy, and the populous hive has become solitary. There are not many who cannot feel with the English moralist when he first set his feet on the holy island where Columba taught the pure precepts of the Gospel: "That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain in force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona." It sometimes happens that an old man is himself able to hear some of the voices of the future, and to look, almost as a spirit might look from unseen haunts, on the places that knew him when he had active work to do among them. When that gentle presence quietly passes away it makes no break in the daily course of things; but those who have seen it flitting among the evergreens, or slowly moving through the halls, think of it as only gone for a while, and would hardly be surprised at any time to meet it where its coming was always welcome. And he, too, looking at life here as but the herald of the great hereafter, might well say to it as it passed on toward the twilight:"Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night,-but in some brighter clime A few weeks ago, when autumn was just at hand, we followed to the grave the venerable form of a good man, whose memory we have met to-day to recall and to honor. The pleasant summer wind blew softly over his grave, and in the calm surroundings of the quietly fading season there were no signs of gloom, and no tokens of bitter sorrow. The friends that came together from many quarters, to pay their last tribute to one whom to know was to revere, were not cast down as those who grieve without hope. A peace that was almost cheerful came upon them all, as they laid the worn-out body in the ground, in the sure trust that his immortal part had gone to a better country. Long and patiently he had waited for that journey; and the eyes that were sometimes weary with looking on the things which lay on this side of the horizon, had learned to see beyond it, and to know the green fields and the still waters where he would find everlasting rest. Those who for more than an ordinary generation had been familiar with that presence that carried a blessing wherever it went, and had noted the gradual changes that made its appearance more and more rare among the scenes of old activity, could only feel, as they looked on the placid features for the last time, that his Father had been very gracious to the faithful servant, and had not removed him until all his work had been well done, and he was ready for his reward. The place that knew him will know him no more as a man walking among men; but this town where his ripest years were spent, and this university which began its career with his unaided teaching, can never cease to be filled with memories and tokens of his useful and blameless life, that will be undying influences of good. The feeling which has led so many to give expression to their respect for him is deeper and purer that the civic pride that loves to recall the worth of those who have done credit to public station. Honorably and faithfully he performed every duty laid upon him. But the sober zeal that was never selfseeking, the generous self-sacrifice that was hardly conscious of its devotion, the unfailing kindness which made all who knew him feel that he had a father's heart for every soul that needed sympathy, were elements of nobility that deserve more than honor, and earn more than veneration. A sense of personal bereavement is at once the sorrow and the consolation of the many hearts that love his memory. It is no easy task to speak adequately and fitly of such a friend, when the pleasant associations of gentleness and amiable goodness, which cannot fail to come up when his face is recalled, almost shut out from view the solid attainments and wisdom which made him so conspicuous a figure during his long, active life. Perhaps we may all be the wiser if we recognize the truth which his example has taught us, that after the graces and powers of intellectual worth are taken into account, the force and sweetness of personal character may yet be the best and strongest influence of all. The life we wish to remember is worth remembering with gratitude, for merits that were neither solitary nor confined within narrow bounds. It contained no series of conspicuous events, and moved in a more than commonly even tenor. The story of its outward transactions might be given in a very few words. But its course is worth noting in its modest career as one of continued usefulness in which at every step some good was done to others, and some seed sown that will bear fruit when all of us have passed away. George Palmer Williams was born in 1802, in Woodstock, Vermont, a state which has furnished many valuable sons to the service of this commonwealth. We cannot now learn much about his boyhood. There is no reason to believe it was peculiar or eventful. Among his early friends-though somewhat older -was the late Chancellor Farnsworth, to whom this university is largely indebted for its prosperity and its early guidance, and quite as much for the employment of Professor Williams in its service. They were kindred spirits in common-sense wisdom, as well as in broad and scholarly tastes, and as long as both lived they were very intimate. After the usual preparation he entered the university of Vermont, and received his bachelor's degree in 1825. He soon thereafter went to the theological seminary at Andover, where he spent about two years in the studies of that institution. He did not, however, complete the ordinary course there; and as his preferences when he left it appeared to be for a different school of theology, it is probable that at this time he had not any settled determination concerning his future career, except that in some way or other he would give up his time and energies to the improvement of other minds. He devoted his entire life to teaching, and whether he meant it or not, to be his sole future employment, he did it conscientiously and thoroughly. It has been supposed by some persons who knew him only as a professor in this university, that he was a specialist in his studies, and chiefly devoted to the exact sciences. But this was not so. He was earnestly and enthusiastically opposed to any system which made no provision for exercising all of the intellectual powers harmoniously. He thought that the studies of early life should be followed for discipline rather than for mere acquirements, and that no education was complete which did not arm the scholar at all points, and enable him, after finishing his novitiate, to deal with such special topics and studies as his tastes or his necessities might lead him to pursue. While he had the desire, which most good citizens have, to see the ordinary school system foster all sound learning, and flourish to the utmost, he did not believe in the notion which is so prevalent, that the years of preparation may be profitably extended at the expense of discipline, by pursuits involving little but the exercise of memory, which often yield but a smattering of useful knowledge, without clear order or full digestion. While his love for mathematical and scientific studies was eager and enthusiastic, and his proficiency in these amounted to genius, he always regarded the discipline of languages as the most effective of all instruments for training young and flexible faculties. His own education was very thorough, and his intellect was so well balanced, and so quick in its workings, that he had no difficulty in mastering any subject speedily and completely. Those who had occasion to consult him found his knowledge varied and profound, and made so as much by the rectitude of his judgment as by his readiness of apprehension. He kept informed on the advance of science, and other means of enlightenment and few men detected so quickly, or exposed so easily, the pretensions of sophists, and the false lights of sciolists. He had no fears that any truth could endanger any other truth, but he had no respect whatever for such noisy champions as claim to be the especial defenders of science, when they have never lodged within its gates. His mind in its plain integrity detected fallacies as if by instinct; and he had no morbid inclination to walk in doubtful paths, or to imagine any road to be the right one that ended in confusion. Healthy in his tastes, and broad in his pursuits, he was admirably fitted to lead and stimulate young minds and hearts, at the season when their need for guidance was strongest. His first important work in teaching was at Gambier, in 1828. Kenyon College was then in its infancy, and like most western colleges of that day, had found its chief difficulty in the lack of good preparatory schools. Professor Wililams in that year assumed charge of the Grammar School. He left at the end of the year 1830, and spent a year or more as professor of languages in the Western University of Pennsylvania, at Pittsburg. During this absence the Grammar School of Kenyon was divided, and in 1832 he was induced to return, and placed at the head of the Senior Grammar School, the junior being under Dr. Dyer, who remained in charge during the rest of the sojourn of Professor Williams, and for some years thereafter. During this period some very eminent men passed under his tuition, and his' success was marked. His life then, as afterwards, was too well regulated to be very eventful; but the qualities that endeared him to all who knew him in his later years, were as conspicuous then as since. Those who try to describe him at any period, find themselves constantly passing over his intellectual worth, to dwell on the qualities that made him such a power morally and socially. In reply to a request made to Dr. Dyer for information concerning that time of our friend's history, he bears the strongest witness to his character in this respect. He says: "He was engaged as a teacher in the preparatory department at Kenyon College for several years, and was greatly esteemed as a teacher and a gentleman of refined and courteous manners. His patience and amiability were truly remarkable. Nothing, not even the pranks and freaks of wild boys and young men, could put him out of temper, or make him hurry. He was regarded as a very accurate scholar, and had the faculty of attaching the pupils to him very strongly. While I cannot recall any incidents connected with his life at Gambier, of particular interest or importance I can recall his whole appearance as he walked the streets, or sat in his class-room, or mingled in society. He was always affable, gentle, and kind-nobody's enemy, but everybody's friend. As I now see him, in his swallow-tail coat with its brass buttons, and his spectacles mounted on his nose, his whole figure and manner become a living reality. Though never particularly intimate with him, I always regarded him as a man of great excellence and worth. Though more than forty years have elapsed since I have seen Dr. Williams, I have a vivid remembrance of his manifold virtues, but of his vices or failings, if he had any, I do not remember one. At that day his life and example were a perpetual benediction, as I believe they were till he entered on the life above. I am sorry I cannot add something more, but a nature so quiet as his, and a life so even in all its ways, afford but little to be expressed in words. The impressions he made remain, and they remain to bless all upon whom they were made." It was a fortunate choice made by his discerning friend that secured such a man to lay the foundations to this university. The first step of the regents, after the State government was organized and means were provided for making a beginning, was to establish branches, which were to serve as preparatory schools. The branch at Pontiac was placed, in 1837, under the charge of Professor Williams, who retained it until appointed, in 1841, to begin work in the college department. His nominal colleagues at this time were Dr. Douglass Houghton, the distinguished geologist, and Professor Joseph Whiting, who had been principal of the branch at Niles. Dr. Houghton died before his special work was provided for. Professor Whiting in due time assumed his duties at Ann Arbor, but his useful life was ended a short time before the first class graduated. Professor Williams was in the beginning placed in the chair of ancient languages, and afterwards in that of mathematics and physics. For a time he conducted all the Ann Arbor work alone, including some preparatory teaching. As senior professor he was virtually head of the university for more than ten years, and his influence during that formative period was of incalculable value, in encouraging in young men the union of manliness with generous and frank courtesy and good feeling. The classes were small enough to make personal influence sensibly felt, and no one among them, whether well or ill inclined, could ever find occasion to think of Professor Williams except with respect and gratitude. No one could be more tolerant of the overflow of young spirits, or more charitable for youthful faults. And with all of this kindness, no |