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ACTlON OF THE UNIVERSITY SENATE.
At a meeting of the University Senate, held on the
21st of November, 1881, the death of EX-President
Tappan was announced by Acting President Frieze, in
the following terms :' '
GENTLEMEN OF THE SENATE,
Again it has become my sad and painful duty to call you '
together for the purpose of adopting resolutions of respect for the
..*>~ O
,n; honored dead. I _
Scarcely a year ago we followed totheir last resting place the
\ remains of the lamented Watson. Since .then, Err-Governor Bag-
m ley, Ex-President Haven, and the venerable Professor Williams
9' have passed away, one after the other, in quick succession, and the
‘F death of each of them has called forth from this Senate expres-
“p. sions of profound regret, and the due tribute of praise for pre- -
we eminent worth and 'service.
But the death record of the year was not yet closed. One more
name was to be added to the mournful list, a name which must for
ever stand ﬁrst among the names illustrious in the history of this
» University. We have received the announcement of the death of
Henry Philip Tappan,-ﬁrst President of the University of Michi-
l gan. Most impressively does this announcement come upon us,
after the losses, unprecedented in' our history, which we have so
recently been called to mourn. Most impressively does it remind
us that this institution is rapidly passing beyond its infancy, and
that it numbers amongst its friends, its alumni, and its past and
present oﬁicers of instruction, many who are already advanced in
life, and who are liable at any moment to fall by the wayside.
we know not yet the nature of the attack which has suddenly
, removed the venerable EX-President from the scenes of earth.
Letters received from his family but two weeks ago spoke of him
as being in his usual vigorous health, and as taking his customary

4
walks. Certainly we had reason to think that he had still a strong
hold upon life, even though several years beyond the allotted three
score years and ten, and that years of tranquil happiness were still
in store for him in that sweet vale in the heart of Switzerland,
Which he had chosen for his last earthly home.
But whatever may have been the occasion of his death, his numer-
ous friends and admirers in this and in foreign lands, and, above
all, those who were related to him in this University as associates
or pupils,'will find a mournful satisfaction in the reﬂection that the-
great work- of his life was long ago completed, and that it was
completed here. For, however eminent Dr. Tappan may have been
as a thinker, as a philosophical writer, as a divine, as a gifted
teacher, and as an eloquent speaker, there can be no doubt that his
well-won reputation derived from these various gifts and attain-
ments will be eclipsed by the greatness of his achievements in
founding and building up, in organizing and developing the higher
educational work of the State of Michigan. And this greatness
will be enhanced by the inﬂuence which his work will be found to
have exercised upon the State universities, and the educational
systems of all this vast region of the lakes and of the West.
Filled with the idea of the excellence and completeness of the
educational systems of some of the European nationalities, and
seeing no promise or possibility of any such system in our Atlantic
States, where the higher institutions are entirely isolated, and have
no root in a system of public primary and secondary schools, he
came to this State, then in its infancy, and he found here in embryo
the very system of generaland complete organization which he had
so much longed to see in operation, the counterpart, at least in
form, of those of the old world, and the only one which, in his
estimation, possessed the conditions of solid, permanent, and com-
plete success. With great enthusiasm he entered upon the enter-
prise of developing the eduCational possibilities of this syst-eml;
with glowing eloquence he impressed his great thoughts and high
hOpes upon the educators and the people of the State. iHis com-
prehensive views, taking in the interests, not of any one class, not
of any one profession, not of any one department of study orgrade
of education, but the educational interestsof all classes and ofthe
entire community, in all branches, grades, and departments, enforced
with arguments derived from extensive reading, from wide obser-
vation, and from profound thought, have been impressed so indeli-
bly upon the University and the educational work of the State,
5
that these will never cease to be a clear and legible record of the
great life work of Henry P. Tappanj There is no- doubt that
his genius, his eloquence, his force andﬁpwersistence gave an impulse
to the educational work of the University and of the State which
will be felt to the latest times. . _
And now I invite you, gentlemen, to take such measures as may
seem to you appropriate for the purpose of showing all due honor
to the memory of the ﬁrst President of the University.
On the conclusion of the Acting President’s rémarks,
a committee, consisting of Acting President Frieze, and
Professors A. B. Palmer, C. K. Adams, T. M. Cooley,
and M. L.- D'Ooge, was appointed to draft resolutions,
and to make such other arrangements as might seem
desirable. ' The report of this committee was presented
at an adjourned meeting of the Senate, held on the 28th
of November.
The following preamble and resolutions, prepared by
Judge Cooley, were unanimously adopted by the Senate :
The members of the University Senate have received with pro-
found sensibility the intelligence of the death of Henry, Philip
Tappan, our former President. Grateful to a kind Providence for
having spared the life of this emihent man until he was full of
days, as he was of honors, we deem it ﬁtting, in expressing our
sense of his loss, to recall with brevity some of the services which
specially. endear his memory to the hearts of those whose affections
cluster around the University to which he gave the best thought
and the most earnest labors of his matured years.
\Vhile yet the University was incomplete, even in skeleton struc-
ture, and before there had been breathed into it the life of popular
favor, he took up its interests in his strong arms, with a faith that
saw all its possibilities, and a courage that would not stop short of
achieving them.
He brought to us an acquaintance with foreign systems which/l
was new to our people, and he was one of the ﬁrst among eminent
educators to perceive that the system, of which a sketch already
appeared in our laws, had been Wisely planned, was peculiarly
6
ﬁtted to the needs of the State, and, if developed in the light of
foreign experience, was'capable of being made the chief glory of
the commonwealth. '
He saw better than others did, that in accomplishing this the
chief need was not stately halls and aspiring chapels, but educated
and able men ; and he not only called such men about him so far
as the resources at his command would enable him to do so, but in
reports, public addresses, and papers, he appealed to the people of
the State, and to its legislation, to take this imperfect and starving
institution to their hearts, and give to it the means of completing
a corps of instruction commensurate with the demands which he
foresaw must soon be made upon it, and in some degree propor-
tioned to the-resources of the State. -
T“ While appealing for State aid, he did not hesitate in any reform
because it would for the time encounter popular opposition or pre-
judice, but moved on with conﬁdence, trusting in the good sense
of the people for the ﬁnal approval of his plans. We recall espe-
cially among these reforms the abolition of college dormitories,
l with their attendant evils.
W‘Believing most implicitly that the University should not stand
apart from popular institutions, and from the people, he challenged
the assistance of the people for it as an integral and necessary part
of a State educational system, of which the common and high
schools should also be necessary parts; and much of his attention
was directed to making it plain that the best interests of the State
required a system complete and adequate to all the wants of
instruction, interwoven with the political structure of the State,
and extending its beneﬁcent and elevating inﬂuences to every
hamlet and every household. '
Compelled to appeal to a people still busy in hewing out for
themselves dwelling places in the forest, and still heavily burdened
with public and private debts, it was inevitable that he should often
be rebuffed, but he was never discouraged;~ and he had the great
and proud satisfaction of knowing that from year to year he was
making his Way steadily in- the conﬁdence and regard of the
people, and that the University of his affections was gradually and
sdurely becoming also the University of the people.
T His broad catholicity of spirit rejected and spurned the notion
' before prevalent, that appointments to chairs of instruction must
'be made 011 denominational grounds, and he refused to recognize
5
7
in those who should be invited to share his labors any other tests
than those of character and ﬁtness.
Among his pupils he was quick to recognize ability and promise,
and during an incumbency of the president’s chair for eleven years
he drew to himself the esteem and ' affection of successive classes,
and impressed every receptive and vigorous mind among them
with something of his own strength and power. When he left he
could justly take satisfaction in the knowledge that his pupils,
while they respected him as a teacher, loved him also as a com-
panion and friend, and bore for him such reverence as children
have for a father at once great in heart, broad in mind, and vigor-
ous in intellect. . I _
Cherishing the memory of his great qualities and great services,
we do hereby resolve:
1. That this expression of our esteem and regard be entered as
a perpetual memorial on the records of the Senate, and that a copy
thereof be published in the papers of the day.
2. That we most deeply Sympathize with the family of the
deceased in their great and sore affliction, and that the Secretary
be directed to transmit to them a copy of this paper as an imper-
fect but most sincere expression thereof.
After the adoption of the foregoing resolutions, the
Senate requested Acting President Frieze to prepare a
memorial address in honor of Dr. Tappan, to be delivered
in connection with the exercises of commencement week
in June.
In reply to the communication sent to her bythe
Secretary of the Senate, Mrs. Tappan sent the following
letter, which, by order of the Senate, has been entered
in its records: _ ‘ I
BEAUVAL, VEVEY, Jan. 5, 1882. _
WILLIAM H. PETTEE, Esq, '
Secretary to the Senate of the University of Jlﬁchz'gan.
MY DEAR SIR—I hasten to reply to your communication of Dec.
17th.
I, Dr. and Mrs. Brunnow. and my grandson, Mr. Brunnowybeg
you will express to President Frieze and the Senate of the Univer-
8
sity our Iwarm thanks and high appreciation of their deep sympa-
thy with us in our great sorrow, and especially for the resolutions
which so beautifully express the grateful love and high estimation
in which they hold the character and services of my dear husband.
It is a touching tribute to his memory, that an absence of
eighteen years has not weakened the veneration and affection in
which he was held during the time he presided over the University.
His love and interest in the University remained undiminished,
and he ever welcomed his old students and friends with heartfelt
pleasure, who from time to time found their way to him on this
side of the Atlantic. '
An institution so dear to his heart, and to which. he devoted the
best years of his life, will ever be dear to us, and we all unite in
wishing for the University of Michigan a prosperous and noble
future.
We also beg you will accept our grateful thanks for your sym-
pathy for us, and your own regret for him, who, though person-
ally unknown to you, still holds a place in your heart.
Very sincerely yours,
I JULIA L. TAPPAN.'
HENRY PHILIP TAPPAN .
A MEMORIAL ADDRESS, ‘
BY
PROFESSOR H. S. FRIEZE, LL. D.
(AHe who gives direction to the education of a state
lLd/qes more than any other man to shape its destiny; nor
Without reason was it said by Ernst Renan: “It is the
German universities that have won the victory of
Sadowa ! ” and, again, four years later, in all the bitter-
ness of defeat : “It is the German universities that have?
conquered us at Sedan.” '~'
IHistory, indeed, is revising its estimate of men and of
things. It is learning that wars and military conquests,
that the agitations and shifting successes of political
parties—the themes on which it has lavished hitherto all
its eloquence and all its gifts of portraiture—are often
but effects or second causes, due in fact to the men of
thought, who, in comparative quiet and obscurity, have
wrought out and enunciated ideas and principles that
have enlightened the minds and stirred the souls of men, -
impelling them on to social reform and national advance-
ment. Therefore, it is bringing into more just promi-
nencethe interests, the agencies, and the actions that
touch the inner life and the vital welfare of men; the
interior development, the industries, the religion, educa-
10
tion and culture, the literature and art, that make up
the real life of nations;
And thus the historian of our day assigns an
eminent place to the men that have taken the lead in
devising educational systems and in perfecting educa-
tional methods. Socrates he thinks not less worthy of
his pen than. Pericles, Aristotle than Alexander, Quin-
tilian than Vespasian. Alcuin and Erigena he puts side
by side with Charlemagne and Alfred; Erasmus, Luther,
and Melancthon in his regard are more important than
Leo X, Charles V, or Francis I. Such men as Ascham
and Milton, Lord Bacon, Newton, and Bentley, Fichte,
and Pestalozzi, Cousin, Guizot, and Arnold of Rugby,
are characters more suggestive Iof advancing civilization
than contemporary sovereigns and statesmen. Educa-
tional statesmen, indeed, many of them have been. Such
we may justly call Plato, Alcuin, Melancthon, Fichte,
and Victor Cousin—all of them men who clearly saw
the vital connection between education and the healthful
growth of states; while they had profound knowledge
of the mind andbf the conditions of its development;
studying as philosophers the relation of mind to the
educatiOnal material, and the adaptation of discipline to
the various stages of mental progress.
And such an educational statesman and philosopher
was he Whose high worth we this day commemorate;
whose life and beneﬁcent work, though deserving a far
I abler pen than mine, I have, nevertheless, by your
request, and as a labor of love and duty, undertaken to
Fglescribe. ‘
' Henry Philip Tappan was born at Rhinebeck, on the
Hudson, the 18th of April, 1805. This old Dutch town,
11
situated about a hundred miles above the city of New
1 York, had been settled by his ancestors, in company with
other emigrants from Holland, in the early days of the
colony. of New Netherlands. His father was Major
Peter Tappan, a descendant of the Tappins of Lorraine;
a family of Huguenots that had taken refuge in Holland
at the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
His mother was of the ancient family of the Ué‘Vitts
of Holland. At the time of his birth the echoes of the
revolutionary struggle had scarcely yet died away.- The
valley of the Hudson, the cradle of his childhood, was
still alive with fresh reminiscences of heroic conﬂicts.
From his father, who, in early manhood, had served as
an officer at the siege of Yorktown, he inherited that
love of country, that pride in its heroic struggle and
glorious triumph, and that adoring reverence for Wash-
ington, that lived in his heart fresh and undiminished to
the latest hour of his. life. Washington was to him the
grandest personage in all history; Washington he ‘
regarded with a sentiment akin to idolatry. Y/i
In early youth he was called, not unfortunately indeed .
for him, to struggle with the hardships of straitened
resources.I His father, by an unfavorable turn in his ‘
affairs, was suddenly reduced from afﬂuence to compara-f‘
tive want. Henry Philip was compelled, like many ofE
the successful men of our land and of his own genera-
tion, to win the means of his education by teaching. In
other lands, the calling of the teacher is usually open
to those alone who enter it as a profession; 'with us,
many eminent men have made this experience the ﬁrst
step to distinction. The young man who is necessitated,
whether by this or any other, occupation, to earn his own
12
support, and thus to become the “son of his own
works,” ﬁnds it in the end no misfortune to have been
compelled .to “ endure hardness,” and thus to have begun
early that handIto hand ﬁght with trial that develops
the highest type of manhood.
L._/
Being thus cast upon his own resources at. the age—(Sf
fourteen, byearnest effort he made his way, two years
later, into Union College, where he took his ﬁrst degree
in 1825. Y .
Union College had been for twenty years under the
presidency of Dr. Eliphalet Nott, who became, both on
account of his long administration of sixty-two years,
and of his many admirable qualiﬁcations for the office,
one of the most remarkable of college presidents The
college was still young. It had been founded by the
united efforts of the several leading denominations of
Christians, and from this fact had received its title of
Union, both as a symbol of its origin, and of the spirit
that was expected to control its teaching and discipline.
Happily, Dr. Nott, its third president, was inspired with
the same broad and liberal spirit that actuated its foun-
ders. Under his administration Union sent forth many
Igraduates who became distinguished in the professions
and in public affairs; men who owed to him not -less
their high aims, and their views of life and duty, than
their habits of thought and investigation. But among-
all those who came forth from his moulding hand, there
were three whom he regarded with peculiar aﬂection and
pride; three so marked in character, and inheriting so
many traits in common from their intellectual parent,
that we might liken him and them ,to Nestor with his
triple brood of heroic sons. ' I
13
These three were Francis Wayland, ‘Alonzo Potter,
and Henry Philip Tappan. They were graduated suc-
cessively within the period from 1813 to 1825. Wayland
and Potter were ofﬁcers of instruction when Tappan took
his baccalaureate degree. All of them exhibited as
students those gifts which, under the wise nurture of
Dr. Nott and his faculty, paved the way for their future
success and reputation. Noble gifts, indeed, all of them _
had received from nature. Upon their very forms she
had set the stamp of greatness. In the stature and
splendid frame,‘the mien and countenance of each, there
was that which at once attracted the attention and
inspired respect. Once seen they were not easily for-
gotten.
Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,
Rectique cultus pectora roborant.
In cast of mind they were somewhat different. While
all were remarkable for mental grasp and penetration,
the minds of all did not move with equal facility; and ‘
in this respect there was a marked contrast between
Wayland and Tappan. The one was slow and cautious,
scrupulously turning every stone, advancing to his con-
,clusion, step by step, with almost inevitable certaint .
iThe other, not less sure in his generalizations, but impaL-j
'ltient of detail, was quick in thought, and was aided
rather than misled by a vivid imaginationi In tempera-
ment Wayland was serious and somewhat stern, and
inclined to look at the dark side of human character,
though this tendency was restrained or corrected by the
grace of Christian charity and by a conscientious judg-
ment. (Tappan was of a warmer nature, judging men
' less severely, and seeing in life more of sunshine than of
14.
Lshadow. In Bishop Potter there was a disposition
approaching less to either extreme, and a habit of thought
more like that of Dr. Wayland; while as a college lec-
turer he excelled them both in the power of awakening
-interest and enthusiasm. In religious views, too, and _
church relations they were different. All were ordained
as Christian ministers at an early age; but Wayland as
a Baptist, Potter as an Episcopalian, and Tappan as a
Presbyterian. These three, also, became distinguished
professors of philosophy, and authors of philosophical
_ works; all became eminent leaders in education, and
active participants in the discussion of moral and social
questions. Finally, Dr. Wayland and Dr. Tappan closed
their life work as presidents of universities, and moved
almost side by side in university reform; while Dr. Pot- '
ter, holding for a time the ofﬁce of vice-president of
Union, was only prevented from succeeding to the presi-
dency by his election to the bishopric of Pennsylvania.
As to the result of their labors, who can place upon
them any just estimate? Who can measure the far-~
Ireaching inﬂuence of the thought; the truths, the prin-
ciples, the doctrines, uttered by them in the class-room
and on public occasions, or expressed in books and
pamphlets ; gradually shaping opinion, until ideas which
were in advance of the times, are now familiar max-ims
expressed in the action of organized societies or embodied
in living institutions? Who, indeed, can estimate the
results of the teaching and the example of one great
educator like Dr. Nott,—especially when they come to
the world through such disciples as these three noble
sons of his mind and heart? And they always through
life looked up to their venerable master with the simple -
15
reverence and affection of children. In my last inter-
view with Dr. Wayland, a short time before his sudden
death, he said to me: “ Be sure, on your return to Mich-
igan, to stop and see Dr. Nott, It will do you good to
talk with such a man. I do not know his equal.
everything to Dr- Nott.”
dent of sixty-ﬁve speak of his old master now past the
age of ninety. And he did but utter a feelingshared
with all the other pupils of that distinguished educator.-
I love to dwell upon the memory of these truly great
I owe
Thus did the veteran presi-
men. They come up before me as I have seen and
heard them, towering forms of a generation past ; repre-
sentatives of a class peculiar to the ﬁrst half of this cen-
tury, such as we shall scarcely see again ;-not men of
minute scholarship, accomplished exclusively in some
special line of study, or, acquainted with one aspect of
some particular subject; but at once broad and strong;
many-sided in learning and culture; well acquainted
with affairs; philosophical at once and practical ; lovers
of science, but not isolated from the world; profound
in study, yet active in society. They were raised up by
the times and for the times. v,
On leaving Union Dr. TapPan entered the Theological
Seminary at Auburn, and completing there his prepara-
tion for the ministry in the usual course of three years,
at the age of twenty-three was settled as pastor of
l
‘W
the Congregational church in Pittsﬁeld, Massachusetts/l
‘ On the eve of his ordination to this charge, he mar-
ried Julia, the daughter of Colonel John \V. Living-
ston, of New York; thus forming in the freshness of
youth that bond of sacred and tender companionship
which was destined throughout the journey of life to
16
enhance and sweeten the joys of prosperity, and to
aiford unspeakable comfort and solace in' the inevitable-
days of trial. '
TY Though endowed with all the qualities that make an
ll effective preacher, it Was not in the ordering of Provi-
‘ dence that he should continue long in the sacred oﬂice.
A bronchial affection, aggravated by the rough winters
of Berkshire, compelled him at the end of three years
to relinquish his pastorate, and to seek relief by a brief
sojourn in the West Indies. Six months later, at the
age of twenty-seven, he accepted the chair of Moral and
Intellectual Philosophy in the new University of the
X City of New York. \\
I““" The acceptance of this chair was a turning point inj his career. It brought him into practical contact as a;
teacher with university work. He had already become
conviiced that American colleges, ‘as then conducted,
not, nly failed, to impart the higher education which
they professed to give, but had drifted far behind the
needs and demands of America-n society. He how
became more fully alive to their deﬁciencies, and began
I to reﬂect upon the poSsibility of organizing in America
an institution which should be a true university, afford-
ing all the advantages of European universities, with
their various faculties, their ample equipment of libra-
ries and apparatus, and their high and liberal tone of
study. I - I
For several years, while reﬂecting upon this problem,
he devoted himself with earnest enthusiasm to philo-
sophical investigation and teaching. But diﬂiculties
arose in the University of a nature that led the great
body of the faculty to resign, and, among the rest, Dr.
17
Tappan. To him this respite, after years of university
labor, was no disadvantage. It afforded him the oppor-
tunity for writing those works on theology'and philos-
ophy by which he powerfully stimulated the thought
Of his contemporaries, and won for himself a distin-
guished place in the literature of his country and of
his age. Without this he would indeed have become
known as an eminent leader in education, but he would
not have secured that permanent place in the history
of thought and letters which is only reached by the
authorship of books of solid merit. Gifted with a mind
eminently philosophical, led by the inﬂuences around
him in his collegiate and theological training, and still
more in his experience as a teacher, to cultivate this bent
of his genius, he_ had gathered up rich stores of learn?
ing and of philosophical deduction.I A writer whose
mind is ﬁlled to overﬂowing with matter of which his
heart, too, is full, can put his thoughts, on paper with
wonderful rapidity. He now brought forth from the
rich granary of a well-stored mind those masterpieces ‘
of metaphysical,thought which made a profound impres-
sion on the philosophers and theologians of his genera-
tion, which breathed a spirit powerfully stimulating all
kindred minds, and which soon made him favorably
known, not only in his own land, but in all the learned
circles of France, Germany, and Great Britain.
l/IYFirst appeared his “Review of Edwards’s Inquiry
'into the Freedom of the Will.” This was published in
1839. It was followed in 1840 by the volume on “The
Doctrine of the Will Determined by an Appeal to Con-
.sciousness,” and the next year by “The Doctrine of the
Will Applied to Moral Agency and Responsibility.”
18
While preparing these treatises for the press, the author
was also busy with those lines of metaphysical and psy- ,
chological investigation that resulted in his admirable
r\system of Logic published in 1844. \,\
j All these productions are characterized by freshness,
I originality, and vigor; all speak a mind candid and free,
‘ boldly questioning the dicta of past authorities, and
I fearlessly uttering its own convictions. For a century
"the famous argument of Edwards, maintaining the bond-
age of the will, had been regarded as uncontroverted and
incontrovertible. Not to accept his conclusions, not to
embrace them implicitly in their whole compass, was to
fall under suspicion of unsoundness in the faith. Now,
a young doctor in the church, dependent for position on
the vote of conseryative boards, must take heed to his
ways. Truth, conviction, candor, are all very well; but ‘
policy, expediency, in a word, bread and butter, are
present necessities. You may quietly hold opinions con-
trary to the received authorities, but you are under no _
obligation to proclaim them at-the sacriﬁce of present-
interest. 'You must suppress your too liberal and
advanced ideas. Whatever you may think of the free-
dom of the will, you must have no will of your own.
You are ﬁtted only for a peculiar kind of work, and
therefore dependent. Publish your beliefs, and you will
forfeit place and livelihood. All openings will be closed,
your prospects blasted. But such admonitions were in
vain. Conviction was mightier than expediency. )0“ Blood
‘will tell.” He had in him the spirit of the banished
Huguenots of Lorraine, and of the sturdy old De Witts
of Holland; the spirit of true Protestantism that has
\lqeien alive in the world from Stephen the Martyr to the
19
present day. Through life he was true to his convic-
tions. He was frank and bold; he was incapable of
dissimulation, he hated hypocrisy. But now there was
added to this impulse of a nature quick to act out its
convictions, his sense of duty to Christianity and to man.
His mo‘tive is thus expressed by 'Vapereau, one of his
French critics: “Misled at ﬁrst by fatalistic doctrines,
henow recognized their errors and dangers, and turned '
all his efforts to- refute them. Hence, his numerous
writings on this subject.” He felt that many of his
Christian brethren were crushed under a belief which
differed, as he thought, but a shade from that of blind
necessity and fate. He thought it a duty to promulgate
the arguments which had emancipated his own spirit, '
and which might bring again the sunshine into other
souls. Therefore, heedless of the cautious of friends as
to probable harm to his worldly interests, he put forth
these treatises on the will and on human responsibility.
I need say nothing further as to their scope and character. -
I should not have space to enter into any analysis of
them, even if I'felt competent to the task.
It is an interesting coincidence that Edwards in the
eighteenth century and his reviewer and opponent of a
hundred years later, both made a strong impression on
the European mind. Of both it was remarked, that
they had only to devote their labors to the ﬁeld of meta-
physics to be reckoned amongst the foremost of writers I
on speculative philosophy. Of Dr. Tappan, the British
Quarterly observed: “Tappan’s valuable work on the
will abundantly shows his capability of contributing
largely to the cultivation, to the real advancement of
mental science, were he to limit his inquiries to psychol-
‘20
ogy.” This opinion was justiﬁed by his treatise entitled
“Elements of Logic ; together with an Introductory
View of Philosophy in General,and a Preliminary View
of the Reason.” The leading French philosopher of the
century, Victor Cousin, said of this book: “It is equal
to any work on this subject that has appeared in Europe.”
All the standard reviews of Great Britain and America
received it with unqualiﬁed praise, and assigned to its
author a place among the foremost- of contemporary
philosophers. In the conception of this treatise, as
everywhere, he shows himself in advance ,of the existing
educational methods, both in England and America.
'The subject .is handled with a breadth of treatment
adapted rather to advanced university work than to the
ordinary and limited range of college recitations. And,
no doubt, it was this broad method of treatment, starting
from a clear and ample discussion of the psychological
basis of dialectics, together with the freedom and fresh-
ness of the style, everywhere exhibiting the genial spirit
of one who 1s at once master of his subject, and 'in love
with it, that attracted the attention of Cousin, and won
the encomium of him whose verdict on such a question
was more signiﬁcant than that of any man living. The
republication of these works in Scotland seventeen years
after their ﬁrst appearance, is an indication of the esteem
in which they continued to be held abroad. _ Indeed, if
genuine merit of thought and of literary form can guar-
antee the memory of any author, the name of Henry
Philip T appan inscribed upon such monuments will not
be lost or forgotten. I I
' It would be a mistake tosuppose that Dr. Tappan was
stimulated either in his literary enterprises or in his pro
21
fessional labors, by the mere motive of reputation or
ambition. IWhile he would not have professed indiffer- I
ence to praise, and to those'honorable titles, which mean
most when they are unsought; yet all who knew him well I
must have felt that his ruling motives were those of an
earnest and enthusiastic spirit, eager to make known the
truth, because it is truth, and because the world needs
it. Academic honors, however, are sure to seek out such
a man. In 1845, he received from his Alma Mater the?
degree of D. D., and from Columbia that of LL. D. in
1853. More signiﬁcant was his election as a Correspond-J
ing Member of the Institute of France. This rare honor,
bestowed upon him in 1856, was probably due' to the
fact that the members of the Institute accepted the judg-
ment and high estimate expressed by Cousin, as justly
deserved. The interest felt by Victor Cousin in Dr-
Tappan, led to a correspondence and ﬁnally to a personal
intimacy which continued to the death of the former in-
1867. Their ﬁrst interview, which occurred in 1851, is
thus described in the words of Dr. Tappan:
“There is an individual in Paris who forms one of
these splendid examples, whom I felt desirous of seeing.
I had on several occasions received friendly messages
from him, and I had long feltv so strong an admiration -
forhis genius, and so genial a sympathy with the spirit
of his writings, that I did not look upon myself as utterly
a stranger to him. I refer to M. Victor Cousin.
“ M. de Tocqueville had informed me that he conversed
only in French. My own powers of French conversa-
tion being limited, I took my young daughter with me
to act as an interpreter. I drove to the Sorbonne, and
2
L0
sent up my name. M. Cousin received us in the ante-
' room in a most cordial manner. I told him I had brought
my daughter to help us in our conve-rsation.I He
I appeared delighted with the contrivance, seated us in
two chairs in his library, side by side, and took another
in front of us, and, grasping my hands between his,
began to talk in that agreeable manner which is native
to the French, and which in him has received all the
grace of the highest cultivation. I understood his French
generally well enough, and he appeared to understand
my English, for each talked in his own language, and
when any misunderstanding occurred on either side, my
daughter made the way smooth again. if L
“He appeared to anticipate political diﬂiculties, and
spoke playfully, and yet, perhaps, half in earnest, of
being compelled to go to America. “But,’ said he,
smiling, ‘how could I leave my books? These are my
wife and daughter.’
“‘Oh,’ replied my daughter, ‘my father will share
his library with you.’ At this his eye kindled, and he
smiled with a grateful expression; he seemed touched
with the enthusiasm of a young heart.
“I spent about two 'hours with him. I saw him once
more when he called to bid me good-bye before I left for
America.”
In 1851 , appeared his treatise on University Education,I"-,
the keynote of his subsequent publications and utter-J!
ances on this subject; and in 1852, a book of travels
entitled “A Step from the New World to the Old, and
Back Again; with Thoughts on the Good and Evil in
Both,” the fruit of his observations in his ﬁrst European
23
tour. Among the sketches of European travel which
crowd our book shelves, this is one of the best; and
apart from the interest it has for the general reader, it is
_ particularly attractive to those who have been acquainted
with the author, as a work in which he gives free expres-
sion to every thought and fancy, reminding us at every
step of those traits of mind, of sentiment, and Of imagina-
tion so characteristic of the man. If any one desires to
study a perfect mental portrait of Dr. Tappan, uncon-
sciously sketched. by his own hand, let him read this
“ Step from the New World to the Old.” It is from this
book that I have extracted the interview with Victor
Cousin, above quoted.‘
Before he made this ﬁrst visit to Europe, he had added
to his literary employments the charge of a seminary for
young ladies. The pupils 'of this school, though not
long under his instruction, received so much beneﬁt from
his careful and conscientious teaching, that he continued
through life to receive expressions of their gratitude and
esteem. He was deeply interested in the education and
culture of young women; but he was not in favor of
the admission of women to colleges. This was the only
idea of the times with which he was not in sympathy.
Nor is this surprising. The great majority of college
“men in our country, and nearly the whole body of uni- _
versity men in Europe, were opposed to it. The objec-
tion urged by him and all others, expressed in one word,
was Iz'ncowqmm'b'élity College life, study, manners, dis-
cipline, surroundings, all were thOught inconsistent with
the nature of woman and the requirements of woman’s
education. But the experiment now in actual operation
in this and many other institutions, does not seem to
24 ~
justify the fears with Which it was regarded twenty
years ago. Many who were earnestly opposed to the
innovation have lived to be convinced that it is either
harmless or a positive good. Whether Dr. Tappan.
Iwould have been among these, had he retained his con-
nection with the University, I cannot say; but this I know,
that his objection to the admission of women was not -
the result of mere Iprejudice. It was based on a sincere
belief that this innovation would be detrimental both to
the interests of the University and of ,female education.
Certainly, one who had devoted some of the best years
and efforts of his life to the instruction of young women,
could not have opposed their admission to colleges
because of any lack of interest in their education and
culture.
Soon after his return from abroad in 1852 he was
invited to resume his former chair of philosophy in the
University of New York, and the same year he was
elected to the Presidency of the University of Michi-
gan. This institution during the ﬁrst ten years of its
existence had been governed by a faculty without any
permanent president, electing a chairman or temporary
presiding ofﬁcer from year to year. His name had been -
proposed to the Board of Regents by Mr. Bancroft.
. The considerations which induced him to prefer the pres-
idency of this young University in the West to his old
position in New York can be readily inferred from the
views in regard to university reform expressed in the
book which he had published .on that subject, and in his
~ later educational writings- -
Y He desired to take part in the creation of an Ameri-
1 can university deserving of the name. In his examina-
25
tion of this subject he had become satisﬁed that certain
conditions were essential which could be best fulﬁlled
in a new and rising commonwealth. A university, in
the proper sense, could be built up only as an insepar-
able part. and as a living member of a system of public
education. This was evident, both from logical deduc-
_ tion, and from the history and present state of European
education. And the fact was corroborated by the
acknowledged failure of American colleges hitherto to
become universities. The university must rise from the
successive stages of primary and secondary schools.
Where these were not built up and permanently sus-
tained the university was impossible. But these could
be secured in completeness and perfection only by
State authority, and by State and municipal appropria-
tions derived from public funds and public taxation.
The university itself, also, with its several faculties, its
buildings, its libraries and varied apparatus, was too
vast and too constantly expanding to be maintained by\
any private corporation. If here and there some excep-
tionally wealthy corporation had succeeded in establish-
ing an ample institution of a high character, there was
no guarantee that its courses of study and its discipline
would constantly be those which the largest demands of
the people and of the age required. Hence, no univerl-i
sity of the highest character was found in Europe uncon-'
nected with a state or national system of education, and
unsupported in part or in whole by the public funds.
Oxford and Cambridge formed no exception, for they
were universally admitted, even by leading educators of
England, to have fallen lamentably short of the character
of genuine universities.
26
l
l
l
But, if private corporations and denominational boards
in this country could not in general sustain the expense
of equipping and maintaining genuine universities. much
less could they meet the expense of supporting, together
with. universities, a complete system of common and high
school education, embracing a whole population, and
providing for every branch of study. All Christian
denominations united could not do this, even if union
among them were possible; for they ﬁnd great difﬁculty
as a body in raising means for the adequate support of
the Christian ministry, and the agencies necessary for
‘ building up Christianity in the world. How, then, could
they, in addition to this, take upon themselves the bur-
den of secular or popular education? If, indeed, secu-
lar education were to be left by the State to the several
Christian denominations, there would be, not only thou-
sands of starving.ministers, as now, but thousands of
starving schoolmasters. Then, again, the denominations
in such a case, shaping their primary schools and their
whole course of training according to their distinctive
ideas, would leave a vast proportion of the community
alienated and practically shut off fromall education;
and thus the people, without agovernment system of
education, would be degraded to the condition of ignor-
ance and-illiteracy of the masses of England at the
beginning of the present century. Such a policy would,
therefore, be suicidal to the State, and, in the end,Ito_
\t\he Christian denominations themselves. ‘
. In the eastern States, to which the attention of Dr.
T appan had been mainly directed hitherto, the desired
conditions had not existed, and apparently could not be
i
created. Those States had their common Ischools, but
27
\
no general and complete system embracing the Vuniver-
sity grade. And this could scarcely be hoped for,'
because the place ~of the university had been long pre-
occupied by numerous colleges, with comparatively nar-
row interests, isolated from the popular education, and
each striving to build itself up independently of other
institutions. In the East, therefore, and even in his
favorite city of New York, he saw no encouraging
prospect of' realizing his ideal. But now, led by this
unlooked fpr invitation from Michigan, to examine the
State University, its organization and its relation to the
State system, he was inspired with new hope. He found
in our Constitution and our legislative statutes provi-
sions for public schools and for higher institutions,
embracing the entire ﬁeld of education. IHe found the
German or Prussian system held up to the people by
the superintendents of public instruction as the most
perfect model to be followed; He also found that little
or nothing had been accomplished .by private corpora-
tions in occupying the ground which in a perfect State
system belongs to a State University. Under these cir-
cumstances he could not hesitate. He accepted the
appointment, removed with his family to Ann Arbor in
October of 1852, and delivered his inaugural as ﬁrst.
President of the University in the following December.
The feelings and aims with which he gave up long
familiar scenes and intimacies, to enter upon his new
and responsible charge are described by him in a pas-
sage of his address before the University Christian
Association, written afew years later: “When I received
a call from the late Board of Regents to take charge of
this University, I felt as all men in middle life must
28
feel when called to break up long-cherished associations,
to forsake the home places of childhood, youth and
manhood, to enter new regions, however glorious and
beautiful they may be. I had been so long accustomed
to see the sun rise from the Atlantic wave, and ‘ scatter
the east wind upon the earth,7 that I recoiled from the
' thought of watching him in his noontide splendor look-
ing down upon these vast lakes as upon ‘a molten look-
ing glass,’ or of watching his setting over these ,unbro-
ken prairies, as if wearily traveling to ﬁnd his rest beyond
the Rocky Mountains: and I had been-so long accus-
tomed on solstitial summer days, like this, to track the
shadows upon the hills and mountains which embosom
the Hudson, on whose enchanted banks I breathed the
air of spring as my ﬁrst taste of life, that it seemed to
me I should lose alike my identity and all ‘local habita-
tion7 amid these boundless plains and forests, and in
this mighty, rushing tide of human life. Believe me, it
was a painful decision for me to make to accept that
call, although so honorable, and implying so much pub-
lic trust. ‘ But I saw that I was called for noI~ ordinary
purpose, to enter upon no common work. A young,
vigorous, free, enlightened and magnanimo'us people had
laid the foundation of a State University; they were
aiming to open for themselves one of the great fountains
of civilization, of culture, of reﬁnement, of true national
grandeur and prosperity. While leveling the forests
and turning up the furrows of the virgin soil to the sun-
light, they would enter upon the race of knowledge_
and beautify and reﬁne their new homes with learning _
and-the liberal arts. * *3 It was the charm of this
high promise and expectation that drew me her\e.\
l
29
‘As a trust was reposed in me, so I came trustfully.
If I had not something to bring, if I were not capable
of doing something, why was I called ? wherefore should
I presume to come? No one should be called to such
a work who has not given pledges of competency; no
one shouldundertake it who is entirely dubious of him-
self. I hold it as a ﬁxed principle that a true man .must
know himself; and that he who undertakes a public
trust must have principles settled, methods deﬁned, a
course of action conceived of, a brave heart to govern, a
ready and not unskillful hand.’ ”
In accordance with these high aims and this brave
conﬁdence, he entered upon that work which we must
regard as the special mission of his life. If his writings
had won for him a distinguished position among the
ranks of philosOphers, and a fame that must survive in
literature, the service he rendered in Michigan to the
cause of the University and general education, has given
him- a high place among those whose ideas are embodied
and ever abiding and growing in living institutions.
jYThis University, whatever may be its progress towards
the highest development, whatever amplitude it may
attain in the variety of its departments or the diversity
of its learning, will always represent, and can never go
beyond the ideal held out before it by the ﬁrst presi-_ ,
dent.
If any one imagine this to be the language of fond
panegyric, let him carefully peruse the educational writ-
ings of Dr. Tappan, beginning with the volume on Uni-
versity Education, which I have before mentioned, and
embracing the various reports and addresses of which
his pen was so fruitful during his administration. Those
30I
who remember his frequent extemporary addresses on
this favorite theme, will be still more impressed with the
justice of my eulogium.
Among these various papers I would single out espe-
cially the President’s ﬁrst annual report 'to the-Board of
Regents made in 1853, his address before the literary
societies in 1855, and his address before the Christian
Association, in 1858. In these will be found distinctly
presented and ably discussed his plans and views as to
the progress of the University. No greater service
could be rendered at the present moment to the inter-
ests of education both in this State and in the country
at large than the publication of the passages of these
important documents that relate immediately to this
subject; and I have often wished that such a compila-
tion of Dr. Tappan’s addresses and reports might be
issued from the ofﬁce of the Superintendent of Public
Instruction.
It is necessary here to state only in substance the
leading ideas of what I may call his university policy:
' 1. The grand object in viewis the development of the
infant institution already organized with its two depart-
ments, one of Literature, Science, and the Arts, the other
of Medicine, into the genuine university contemplated
by the pioneer statesmen of Michigan, and by the State
Constitution itselfi; “a university worthy of the name,
with a capacity adequate to our wants, receiving a
development commensurate with the growth of all things
around us, doing a work which shall be heartily acknow-
ledged by the present generation, and reaching with
increasing power through the generations to come.”*
*Report of 1851.
31~
Such an institution contemplates nothing less than the -
whole sphere of higher education embraced by the great
continental universities of Europe, and especially by
those of Germany, with their ample equipment of books
and apparatus, and all the Faculties, excepting that of
Theology.
2. The ﬁrst condition of success is the proper selection I‘
of the professors. Every chair must be ﬁlled by a man
of exceptional talent and of thorough learning ;. perfect
master of his branch of instruction, and prepared to
bring forth in his lectures the reI§ults of reading and
original research. He must be the very best man of his
I specialty that can be found; therefore, chosen without
_ any reference to political or church relations, or personal
favoritism; not a picked up man, but a picked out man.
IWithout severe adherence to this principle theIUniversity
cannot be the authority andthe standard in learning
which the Constitution designed it to be as the head of
the State system. "J
3. There must be ultimately one common standard of
attainment as the conditioh of entering all departments,
whether professional or literary. This alone can secure
the high level of education which all must aim at, and
at the same time create any real internal unity. On this
condition alone can the professional schools cease to be,
as at present, in American universities, mere loose appen-
dages to the institution, and not forming with it a genuine
university organism. .
4. But this object cannot be accomplished in a day.
Present conditions and necessities must be accepted, and
every movement in the transformation must be made
without haste or violence. Therefore, I
32
5. The present collegiate or gymnasi'al organization in
the literaryldepartment, with its ﬁxed course of four
years, with its schoolmaster methods and discipline and
state of pupilage, must be for a time retained; but its
work must be gradually transferred to the high schools
or to newly-created intermediate schools, or gymnasia,
where such work properly belongs. Meanwhile, univer-
sity methods, university lectures, free and manly habits
of study and investigation must be gradually Worked
into the courses. At the same time, in the professional
departments the attainments required both for admission
and for graduation must constantly be advanced, until
all departments shall be equal in respect to discipline
and learning, and all equally honorable to the IDStIll-j/
tion. - _
6. But all this presupposes and involves constant prbI-l
gress in the common and high schools towards that per-
fection without which the University itself cannot be
perfect; while, reciprocally, the lower schools themselves
are acted upon and elevated by the inﬂuence of the
University: so completely do the three grades mutually/
depend and react upon each other. i ‘ J
European governments which recognize the principle
of Church and State ﬁnd little or no embarrassment in
maintaining theological faculties by the side of the oth-
ers which go to make up their great national universi-
ties ; but an American State university, under a govern-
ment) which cannot discriminate in favor of any one
among the numerous Christian denominations into which
its citizens are divided, must leave the religious commu-
nity itself to provide for the theological training of the
sacred ministry. l herefore, the President earnestly
LA
33
cherished, and often expressed the hope, that at an early
day the denominations, each for itself, would see the
Wisdom of establishing at Ann Arbor theological schools
which should enjoy all the advantages of association
with the University; free access to its libraries, its class
rooms, its lectures, and to all its privileges; while such
schools could not fail to create around themselves a reli-
gious atmosphere, and thus aid in making the chief“
educational institution of the State a centre of Christian I
as well as of intellectual culture. "—J
The plans of. the new President, so far reaching and
so far in advance of the times', involved in- the end the
necessity of large ﬁnancial resources, and, also, on the
educational side, constant and sure progress in the other
- two divisions of the educational system, namely, the
common school and the high school grades. ThereY-j
fore, the President constantly urged the necessity of.
keeping before the public the great interests of the
University and the local schools of the State, as form-
ing vital members of one body, all of which must
either thrive or perish together. Therefore, he urged
upon our legislators the. policy as well as the duty of
being generous to the University, in common with all
other State institutions of' learning. And to the build-
ing up of the University and the whole system of State
education, in accordance with these broad and enlight-
ened plans, he devoted the years of his administration, TI '
and was ready to devote all the years of his life. '“""I
I He did not claim that all these ideas were original
with him. As I have before said, he had learned that
the way had been already wisely and well prepared
befOre his coming; that something analogous to the sys- -
34
tem of Prussia had already been established, at least in
form, by the constitution and legislation of Michigan.
And no one more than he esteemed and honored-that
wise and good man, the Hon. John D. Pierce, our ﬁrst
Superintendent of Public Instruction, who ﬁrst con-
ceived and outlined in legislation the educational work
of the State; and who, within the last few months, has
followed to the grave the ﬁrst President of “that Univer- .
sity to which he himself had given its original form and
designation. Well does he deserve to be held in grate-
ful remembrance by every citizen of Michigan, and by
_ every alumnus of the University.
? One of the ﬁrst acts of the President was to do away
' with the traditional mode of college life called “the
dormitory system.” This system had been hitherto one
of Ithe characteristic features of American universities.
A row or a cluster Iof rectangular buildings, partitioned
into sleeping apartments for students, with incidental
recitation-rooms, was the ﬁrst essential of a college or a
so-called university. Faculties, men, well-stored brains,
libraries, laboratories, were the second, if not a second-
ary, consideration. The University of Michigan during
its ﬁrst decade had followed the old custom. But the
President, looking forward to the great numbers that in
the course of time would probably be assembled here,
thought it impracticable and absurd to undertake, with
the funds which would be needed for the legitimate
purposes of education, to build apartments for a thou-
sand or two thousand, or, it may be, three or four thou-
sand sleepers, He, therefore, seized the early moment,
before the expensive evil should be fastened and entailed
upon the institution, to convert the dormitories already
35
built, into much needed lecture rooms, class rooms, and
museums. In European towns, whether largeor small,
wherever universities existed, private lodgings had-
always been found more than sufﬁcient to meet the
demand. Here, too, in Ann Arbor, the common law of
“ demand and supply” could not fail to hold good. J
The wisdom of this measure has been fully ustiﬁed by
the result. It has proved that the expenditure of the
public funds for dormitory buildings is not demanded
by any real want ; it has saved the University from use-
less outlays, which would have largely exhausted its
income, and it has Iobviated the necessity of calling
upon the State for any appropriations except those
needed for purely educational purposes. But, while it
shut off asource of ﬁnancial embarrassment which would
have been ever increasing and never ending, it secured,
at the same time, in the judgment of the President, a
great advantage in the life and morals of the students.
“The dormitory system,” says he, “is objectionable in
itself. By withdrawing young men from the inﬂuence
of domestic circles, and separating them from the com-
munity, they are often led to contract evil habits, and
are prone to fall into disorderly conduct. The difﬁcul-
tiesjof maintaining Idiscipline are greatly increased. It
is a mere remnant of the monkish cloisters of the middle
ages, still retained in England, indeed, but banished
from the universities of Germany”. ‘ (L,
While moving safely and patiently towards the con-
-
summation of his broad university plan, President Tap- ~
pan aimed to enlarge and liberalize the existing Collegi-
ate or “Literary Department.” He carried into imme-
diate effect a recent enactment of the Legislature, by
36
Iestablishing courses of study parallel to those of the
old curriculum, either not requiring the ancient classics,
or leaving to students their individual preferences among
all branches taught in the institution. These were the
so-called “Scientiﬁc” and “Optional Courses ”—looked
upon with suspicion, or met with decided opposition on
the part of old-fashioned college men. It' was, indeed,
an innovation; but, says Dr. Tappan, “It is the part of
Wise men neither to court innovation through a love of
novelty, nor to shun it through a fear of the imputation
of ﬁckleness;but to be always alive to the claims of
rational progress.” I
At the same time were established, as the beginning of technical and practical schools, a Department of I
Engineering and a Chemical Laboratory. Then, too, the
new and lively interest awakened in behalf of the Uni-
versity, led'the citizens of Detroit to place in the handi
of the President the means of erecting our astronomicalj
observatory. This important department of the UIEI
versity, soon completed, and named, in honor of the
donors, “The Detroit Observatory,” has more than ful-
ﬁlled the sanguine hopes expressed by the President of
its success. Under the direction of the eminent astron-
omers Briinnow and Watson, it has become distinguished
amongst the foremost institutions of its kind.
And now, I need not tell you with what hopeful Il,
enthusiasm the President pursued his task; how his
generous aims were seconded by the Regents, the Facul-
ties, and the citizens; how students from the State and
from abroad began to ﬂock to our halls; how new
departments were added, facilities multiplied ;' how,
indeed, all his hopes and prophecies were in rapid pro-
. \_._
"'“l
l
37
cess of fulﬁlment. Nor need I remind you who were
students in his time, what kindness mingled with deci-
sion, what Igentleness and candor, 'what parental love
and sympathy, marked all his intercourse with those
under his charge. And -you easily recall with me his
noble and digniﬁed appearance on public occasions.
How impressive was his eloquence l—like his mind;
broad, profound, and clear. He wrote and spoke as one
who stands above and looks down into his subject, com- y
prehending with clear vision its whole compass and /
every detail. -
His sentences moved on with the unerring certainty,
and the deﬁniteness of form that characterize a mind
seeing the end from the beginning. It was especially in
extempore speech, and when moved as only powerful
natures can be moved, that he made his grandest appeals
\to conviction and feeling- It was all the inspiration of
the moment, but it was masterly in style as well as
mighty in sentiment. You will readily recall those
brief addresses with which he was accustomed to close
the exercises of the commencement. As he stood on the
platform, looking down into the faces that had become
familiar, feeling that many of them he never should
behold again, the thought of the risks and the uncertain
destinies of these young lives, stirred his soul to its
inmost depths. Then came warm from his heart those
words of love, of wisdom, of encouragement, and of
tender admonition that can never be forgotten.
And so were the rich endowments which nature had
lavished upon this man, his commanding form and pres
ence, his mind at once logical and imaginative, his spiritj
at once bold and gentle, perfected and crowned by this
3'8
gift of lofty eloquence. And the University was always
proud to be represented by such a head, whether at
home or abroad. ' '
The prosperity of the University, its increasing
strength and numbers, were for a time aﬁected by the
war of secession. Many of our brightest sons perished
on the ﬁeld or in the hospitals; our departments and
our classes were more than decimated. We all bitterly
mourned the sacriﬁce, though proud of the heroic dead.
N o citizen was more fully alive than President Tappan
to the importance of a vigorous prosecution of the war. ‘
This feeling was that which was to be expected in the'
son of, a revolutionary patriot, and in one who had grown
up near the homes of the Schuylers, the Herkimers,
and the Clintons. He believed that the war should be
unmixed with compromise, unhindered by discussion;
that war alone should occupy the thoughts and concen-
trate the energies of the people; that war, and war
alone, should decide once and forever the great question '
at issue. His views are expressed in the following
extracts from an address on the national affairs prepared
by the request of the students of the Law Department,
and read before them in January, 1862 : “We have six .
hundred thousand men in the ﬁeld and our business is
to lead them to victory. * * * * * The discus-
sion of political, philosophical, or moral principles, now,
has no bearing upon the work in hand. We are in
the midst of a war which leaves us no alternative but
brave ﬁghting, or ignominious and fatal submission.
“In times of peace, our principles, our politics, our fan-
aticisms may jostle each other, but in this time of war—
stauding as we do upon the ﬁery edge of battle—we
39
stand shoulder to shoulder for the republic. We ask not
now what is your nationality, what is your creed, what
is your party. We ask only, what is your banner—are
you for the Stars and Stripes? * * * * * Let us
carry our banner Victoriously from the Upper Lakes to
the Gulf of Mexico, from the Atlantic to the Paciﬁc.
This is the werk in hand——a work large enough to
occupy all, our powers, a work majestic and catholic
enough to sink all our political differences, a work whose
imperious necessities must melt us into one heroic peo-
ple sworn to conquer or to die. *I * I * * *
“All our diﬂiculties arise from discussing opinions and
institutions existing in the enemy’s country, and attempt-
ing to frame a policy to meet them, when our proper
business is to ﬁght that we may win. Victory solves a
thousand problems in a moment, while speculation is
stumbling among the dark mountains of fear and uncer-
tainty.
“When we have reconquered territories violently
wrested from us, when we have prostrated the rebel-
lious and thrown our protection around the loyal, then
will arise the question upon what basis shall the Union _
be restored, and what measures shall be adopted for the
future and permanent security of the republic. We
willwait for the harvest time to gather the fruits of
our present labors and sacriﬁces. Now is the time for
labors and sacriﬁces only. I I
“We are managing the ship of state in the midst of a
stormy and perilous sea. We are placed, some at the
helm to steer, some at the bow to look out, some along
the deck to manage the sails, some at the pumps to con-‘
trol the leak. Let every man do his duty. ,We have
\
40
but one thing in view now; no one can mistake it ; that .
one thing involves all that is dear to us in life, and is of
such awful moment, of 'such urgent necessity, that we
cannot pause to deliberate, much less to indulge in
words—we can think and speak only in action. Forget "
everything else and save the ship.” ' ___l
The unhappy circumstance which brought an end tod,
an administration begun so auspiciously, conducted with such ability, and attended with such grand results, will
never cease to be a source of painful regret. It is in
the very nature of great qualities—of moral. force and
brave purposes, to call forth resistance. Thus the work
of strong men is sometimes shortened; though, thank
God, their ideas are not limited, “and their works do
follow them.” How happy should we have been today,
could we have been permitted to announce to him that
one of his great ideas, indeed, the controlling idea of all,
' after twenty-nine years'of waiting, has been embodied ,
I in action! that the freedom of study, the university leg} ‘
tures, in short, that broad university plan, which he I, \l,
projected and longed to see in operation, has been act-
’
_ ually established and announced to the world. - l
W“.
- Amid allIthe controversy and the passion of the hour,
.ﬁ
no one ever questioned the greatness of his mind or the
solidity of his reputation; the wisdom of his educational
plans, or the high merit of his educational achievement.
But it was not in his nature to temporize. At once,
with all that were dearest to him, in the autumn of 1863,
he bade farewell to the State and the country. He
sought forgetfulness of the past, 'solace and repose, among
the familiar friends and amidst the familiar-scenes of the
old world. In Berlin, in Paris, in Bonn, in Frankfort,
41.’
in Basle and Geneva, he found those who gladly wel-
comed to their literary and cultivated circles one who
had already become familiar to them both in person and
in his contributions to thought and to letters. Such
society, together with the intellectual treasures of Euro-
pean libraries, and the whole world of European art,
. were exhaustless sources of interest, of preﬁt, and of the
most exalted pleasure. Then, too, there was the loveli-
ness of nature tempting his steps now to the lakes and
glaciers of Switzerland, or to the ﬁr-clad hills of the
Black Forest; now to the sunny slopes of Italy and the
margin of the blue Mediterranean. Often had I heard
him express the wish to spend the evening of his days,
if possible, Where he could be surrounded with all that
was beautiful in nature, and all that was perfect in
civilization. Let us hope that this Ilast period of his
life, passed amidst scenes, associations and intellectual
resources so consonant with his desires, brought to him
all that blissful repose to which he had looked forward
in those earlier days.
These last years, indeed, were clouded with one great
_ sorrow. He was called upon to mourn the death of his
only son, John L. Tappan, for several years librarian of
this University, and remembered by the older members
of the Faculty, and the alumni of the earlier days, as an
amiable and courteous gentleman. The shock fell the
more heavily as his death occurred suddenly, and in
the midst of strangers, when he was on his way from
Paris to the home of the family, at that time residing
near Frankfort. The earnest sympathy of their friends,
both in Europe and at home, could do but little to
relieve this heavy bloIw. Only the healing hand of time
I42
and an unwavering trust in God could bring back to
the stricken souls their wonted cheerfulness.
And now our thoughts follow the venerable President
to that lovely spot, one of the most lovely in all Switzer-
land where he took up his ﬁnal residence. Ten years
before, in his book of travels, he had pictured this part of
Lake Leman. Let his words describe it now: “One of
-our apartments overlooked the lake. The following
morning was clear and bright. I arcse and went to the -
window, and threw open the shutter. What a scene
burst upon my eyes! Was it enchantment, or was it
reality! Was it earth or heaven! I can never forget
that moment; neither can I describe my feelings. The
beautiful lake lay beneath me. Directly opposite, on
the further shore, arose, as from the Water’s edge, a wall
of mountains; and mountain rose behind mountain, and
over the whole was the delicate haze of the morning like
a transparent veil. I looked down the lake towards Cha-
mouni, and in the distance there was nothing but clouds.
I turned towards the head of the lake, and the ice moun-
tains of Savoy were glittering beneath the morning sun_
So clear was the atmosphere, and so huge the masses,
that thegappeared just.at hand. The ice mountains!
Now I saw them for the ﬁrst time. The ice mountains
piled up far above all earthly things in the clear heavens!
I. gazed in silence. Then turned away and walked
about the room instinctively, to collect my thoughts, and
arouse myself from the stupefaction of wonder. I went
back to the window—there they were still. How glo-
rious! how'beautiful! how pure !—there was no stain
upon them. How deep the consciousness that I pos-
sessed a soul, and thought, and feeling! I seemed to
n‘
as
spread myself over them, to embrace them—to become
one with them. IGod is great; the soul of man is great.
0 Almighty Spirit! we are Thy work, made after Thine
image; and here without are Thy stupendous works;
the heavens are Thine—Thou hast garnished them; the
earth is Thine; these everlasting mountains are Thine;
we see Thee in Thy works—we feel the glory of Thy
presence.” ' .
It was in the midst of all this grandeur and beauty,
where nature has done her utmost to create a paradise
for man, in the ancient town of Vevey, near the head of
Lake Geneva, cradled in the mountains, sheltered from
the wintry winds, where roses bloom to the end of
November, that about three years ago Dr. Tappan pur-
chased the sweet villa of Beauval. Here a well built
and comfortable mansion, ample lawns, groves and ave-
nues of noble trees, charming shrubbery and ﬂowers, on
the very banks of the lake, with the Alps and the Dent-
de-Midi looking down from the opposite side, 'promised
all of delightful retirement and of happy tranquility
that earth. can give. And here his days were gliding
smoothly along, when he received the news of the death
of his old and cherished friend, the venerable Professor
Williams. His answer to my letter conveying this sad
intelligence, Mrs. Briinnow now informs me, was the
last he ever wrote. That part of it which is not per-
sonal, I cannot forbear to read: “A few days since I
received yours of the 25th inst., informing me of the.
death of Dr. Williams. I had already read an announce-
. ment of it in Ia Detroit paper. Upon this came the
news of the death of President Garﬁeld. How different
the impression produced upon my mind by the two
44
events ! President Garﬁeld in the ripeness of his pow-
ers, in the vigorous health of middle age, in the zenith
of usefulness and inﬂuence, the chosen. and beloved
' ruler of a great nation, falls as by the accidental sting
of a serpent. It is hard to collect consolation for an
event so untoward, so sad and. terrible, and to our short-
sighted vision, so unnecessary. Dr. Williams, on the
contrary, had completed his honorable, pure, and useful
life, and, as a shock fully ripe, is gathered into the heav-
enly garner. I am not surprised and startled by his
death. I had heard of his increasing feebleness, and I
knew that the end could not be far distant. We all -'
contemplate this event with abundant consolation, with
a sad and sweet tenderness, and with the light of faith
and hope about us, like the glow of the setting sun. Dr.
Williams was, as you say, a Christ-like man. He was a
genuine Christian, and a true gentleman, and in all my
intercourse with him, I never knew him to deviate from
the principles of the ﬁrst, or to do anything unworthy
of the urbanities and manliness of the second. I shall
always cherish his memory.” ,
About seven weeks after this letter was written, came
the startling announcement of his own sudden depart-
' ure. Little did we think that he was so soon to follow
the aged friIend whom he, with us, so honored and loved.
On the 15th of November last, after a brief illness, at
ﬁrst not alarming, but which proved to be paralysis of
the heart, that noble spirit passed away. At his bed-
side were all his loved ones; the dear and honored com-
panion of his joys and sorrows; the daughter who here
y grew up to young womanhood, who in married life had
scarcely been separated from the parental home ; his
45
son-in-law, Dr. Briinnow, who had been With him
from the beginning of his labors at this University;
and his grandson, Rudolph Briinnow, born in Ann
Arbor, and now a student of Strasburg—all these
were gathered around the dying man to receive his
last look and his last blessing. In the Serene conﬁdence
of a Christian faith, in peace with God, in charity with
the world, he passed away to his eternal rest. And
now all that remains of that form, to us so familiar,
reposes near the far off banks of Leman, Iby the side of
many others from foreign lands, who have like him,
sought in that sweet vale a quiet home for the evening
of life. And many of those who looked up to him as a
friend and father, while rambling hereafter through the
valleys of Switzerland, will turn their steps to that last _
resting place, and gaze with sad interest on that hon-
ored grave. Many, too, will seek the pleasant mansion
ofI Beauval, and offer to the bereaved survivors the sym-
pathy of grateful and loving hearts. And this sym~
pathy I know that all who hear me, feel, and most earn-
estly would express even through these words of mine,
May “He who never willingly afﬂicts or grieves the
children of men,” visit their hearts with the strong con-
solation that He alone can give.
Thus lived and thus died Henry Philip Tappan, one
of the most gifted men of our times ; the Christian phil-
osopher, the friend of Cousin, the lover of Plato; a cul-
tivated scholar, a great educational leader; the ﬁrst
President of this University, and its true founder; whose
work and memory are inseparable from its history;
whose name shall live and be honored as long as the
State and the University shall endure.

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