A Memorial Discourse

On The Life and Services of

Henry Simmons Frieze, LL.D.

Professor of Latin Language & Literature

University of Michigan 1854-1889

By President James B. Angell

(Delivered in University on March 16, 1890, at the Request of the Senate)

We have gathered here today with that deep sense of loss which has weighed so heavily upon us for the past few weeks. Daily as we enter these grounds or pass through these halls, we miss the elastic step, the radiant face, the genial word of him who for more than a generation, as the inspiring teacher, the helpful colleague, the charming friend, has left a benediction on every life he has touched. For five and thirty years he has formed so large a part of the University that we who are left behind feel in our sorrow and privation as though a portion of the very life of the University had been cleft away. His loving and lovable nature drew those of us who had known him longest and best so close to him that it often seems to us as though in his death something was driven from the inmost being of each of us.

We have felt that we could not deny ourselves the sad pleasure of coming up to this place, where we have listened in days gone by to his words of instruction and cheer, to recall the chief events of his life and the traits of his character, and to express our appreciation of the man and of his great services to the University. In accepting your invitation to speak in your behalf on this occasion, I am painfully aware how inadequate an idea any picture I can draw can give to a stranger of the combination of beauty and of power, which was found in his delicate and noble soul. But I am sure that the memories of his old friends will fill the outline which I may sketch with a more life like portrait than pen or pencil or chisel can produce.

Henry Simmons Frieze was born in Boston, Mass., September 15, 1817, where his father, Jacob Frieze, resided for a brief period. His great-grandfather was German by birth. His father, who was a native, and for most of his life a resident, of Providence, R.I., was a man of marked intellectual vigor, The years of the early manhood of Jacob Frieze were given to teaching. Then he entered the ministry of the Universalist denomination and preached until an affection of the throat compelled him to desist. He was settled over parishes in Milford and Marlboro, Mass., and Pawtucket, R.I. Later he was engaged in editorial work on newspapers in Providence and distinguished himself in the production of political pamphlets, an agency which fifty years ago was largely employed in political campaigns in Rhode Island, as it had formerly been in England. He wielded a sharp and caustic pen and was a formidable antagonist in debate. He played a considerable part within my recollection in the public affairs of Rhode Island. From him the son inherited his intellectual activity, and also his courage, in which, with all his gentleness of manner, he was by no means wanting. From him too he inherited his musical gifts. But from his mother, Betsey Slade, of Somerset, Mass., a woman of devout, sweet, and retiring nature, he received that delicacy and gentleness and modesty which were so characteristic of him. The influences in the home were both stimulating and refining.

But circumstances required the boy to become at an early age a breadwinner. While yet a lad he was placed as a clerk with an excellent Christian man in Providence, for whom he ever retained a strong affection. His taste and talent for music made him somewhat conspicuous as a musician while he was still young. Finding a remunerative position at Newport as organist and teacher of music, he removed thither. By the urgent advice of some of his cultivated friends in that city, who recognized his talent and his promise, he formed the purpose, though not until he was nearly nineteen years of age, of gaining a college education. While supporting himself by the exercise of his musical gifts he hastily and imperfectly prepared himself for college in the school of Joseph Joslin. During his residence at Newport he was confirmed as a communicant in the Protestant Episcopal Church, to whose interests he was in the most catholic spirit devoted through his whole life.

In September 1837, when he was just entering on his twenty-first year, he was admitted to the Freshman class in Brown University. He was one of the oldest students in the class. He used to say that the recollection of the amiable leniency of his examiners, to which he thought he owed his admission, always inclined him to be charitable in judging the applicants who in all these years came to him to be examined in Latin for entrance to this University. Though he was at first somewhat embarrassed in his college work by his lack of thorough instruction in school — since from the age of twelve or thirteen to the age of nineteen he had been constantly engaged in earning his livelihood — his talent and industry soon placed him at the head of his class, the position which he held at graduation. His work was excellent in all departments, but especially in the languages. He had less aptitude for mathematics than for other branches, but by dint of his diligence he succeeded well even in his mathematical studies. One of his classmates, Rev. Dr. Kendall Brooks, writes me, "He had great dignity, not only of manner, but of spirit also, and while he was not intimate with many students, he was profoundly respected by every one." He was organist and chorister of St. John's church, and Superintendent of the Sunday school during his entire college course. He was enabled by his services as organist and as a teacher of music to pay his college expenses and to assist needy relatives. It is clear that he must have been very industrious to maintain his high college rank and to perform so much outside labor. Moreover, during a part of his Junior year, owing to some disease of his eyes, he was unable to use them in study. Many of his lessons he learned by having them read. Having received the highest honor at the Junior exhibition, the Latin oration, he was unable to touch pen to paper in the preparation of it, but dictated the whole of it. In all his college days he was conspicuously active and faithful in the exercise of a positive Christian influence. During his Senior year there came upon him the gravest of sorrows in the sudden death of one who was dearer to him than his own life. He bowed with Christian submission to the heavy affliction, but the chastening memory of it long left its impress upon him. The accounts that we get of his undergraduate career give us the picture of a gifted, earnest, devout, hard-working and successful student, who was learning not only what the college, whose standards were high and exacting, could teach, but also the self-reliance and discipline which dependence on his own toil for support and sore providential trials brought him in large measure.

Immediately on his graduation he was appointed tutor in Brown University, and held that position for three years. His duties consisted mainly in the teaching of Latin. Rev. Dr. Fisher, of the Yale Theological Seminary, who was one of his pupils at that time, writes thus of his recollections of the young tutor's instruction.

"His scholarship appeared to me to be faultless. Nothing in the author whom we studied escaped his attention. It was impossible for any one of us to prepare perfectly for a recitation. There would be questions, fair questions too, which we had not foreseen. His ideal of accuracy it was in vain for us to attempt to reach. He always followed the translation made by a student with a translation of his own, and this was uniformly, if not more correct, more tasteful and finished than any of us by the utmost painstaking could present. Mr. Frieze was a gentleman and had a certain refinement and reserve which kept off undue familiarity. I think of him, as I always have thought, as a teacher of rare qualifications. I owe him a debt which it has ever given me much pleasure to acknowledge."

In 1844 Mr. Frieze became associated with a classmate in the conduct of the University Grammar School in Providence, and continued in that work for the next ten years.

In 1847 a happy marriage gave him the delights of a home, which with his affectionate nature he was so fitted to enjoy and to gladden. (August 16, 1847, he married Miss Anna B. Roffee, of Providence.) Though our hearts run out with tenderest sympathy to his stricken wife and daughters, we may not invade the sanctity of their fresh grief even to describe the sweet and beautiful spirit of domestic love, which has lent such a charm to the quiet life of their home.

The University Grammar School was composed largely of pupils who were preparing to enter Brown University. It soon acquired a most enviable reputation. It was my good fortune to enter that school in the late autumn of 1844 and to enjoy the instruction of Mr. Frieze in Greek and Latin until the following July. No event of my life ever gave me a stronger intellectual stimulus than the contact with that inspiring young teacher during those few months. My heart was at once bound to him with an affection, which has grown stronger and stronger through these five and forty years. Such teaching as his was a revelation to me. How contagious was his literary enthusiasm! So brilliant, so stirring, so inspiring was all his instruction that the class seemed to be surcharged with his wonderful nervous activity. When in reciting the lesson we had exhausted our slender stock of knowledge, which after diligent study we had supposed with some complacency to be of considerable value, how were we often startled by a whole volley of questions, partly revealing what was new to us, and still more stimulating us to search before the next day for what was not revealed. When the exercise was closed, the blood was in our faces and our hearts were beating fast as though we had come from a contest on the ball ground. How vividly I recall him in the beauty of early manhood, as, with his dark, rich, curly locks falling on his neck, his eyes gleaming through his spectacles, he conducted his classes. He paced almost constantly up and down the platform. Now and then he halted suddenly to pierce some stupid blunder with a sharp question as with a winged arrow, or again when we made a happy rendering of some fine passage in Vergil his face beamed with a radiance, which was our sufficient reward. His mien and bearing seemed to impart to the class and to the whole school the spirit of his overflowing vitality and scholarly enthusiasm. He seemed to me the ideal teacher.

It is not strange that when in 1854 a vacancy occurred in the chair of Latin in this University, Professor Boise, who had been familiar with Mr. Frieze's career as a student and a teacher, should have directed the attention of the University authorities to his friend. Mr. Frieze was at once appointed to the position, which he held until the day of his death. It was a rare fortune, which brought to the University in its early days two such classical teachers as Professors Boise and Frieze. They so impressed themselves upon the Institution in its plastic and formative days, they so commended the value of the studies committed to their care, they invested what were often contemptuously and ignorantly called "the dead languages" with such a charm, they so illustrated in their own minds the cultivating and refining power of the ancient literatures that from the very beginning of their labors an enthusiastic love for classical culture was nurtured in this University, and it has continued to this day.

After discharging the duties of his new chair for a year, Professor Frieze obtained leave of absence in order to gratify a long cherished desire of visiting Europe for the purposes of observation and study. His mind, so keenly appreciative of all the beauties of art and of nature, and so thoroughly trained and disciplined, reaped the most abundant fruits from the visit abroad. He attended lectures at the University of Berlin, afterwards visited Italy, and returned homeward through France and England. Before he started, President Tappan had imparted to him something of his enthusiastic admiration for German scholarship and German methods of education. What he saw with his own eyes more than confirmed his previous impressions of the great excellence of the German gymnasium and university training, and after his return he never ceased to commend the application of German methods, so far as practicable, to the work of our high schools and universities. One can imagine rather than describe what delights and inspirations a European journey furnished to a soul with such a passion as his for music as well as for the beauties of painting and sculpture and architecture. President White, who was one of his traveling companions in Germany and Italy, writes to me with a delighted recollection of Mr. Frieze's animated and instructive conversation on questions of Roman life and character, and especially on music, and says, "I have always believed that had he been born in Germany he would have ranked with great composers and performers." He tells a pleasing story of their traveling on a train from Dresden to Prague with some Bohemian soldiers, who were singing plaintive songs, and Mr. Frieze jotted down the notes as they sang, and reproduced the songs afterwards. Nothing that was worth seeing or hearing, we may be sure, escaped his alert and active mind. We, who are so familiar with the extraordinary skill, which he attained as an organist and a pianist, and with some of his musical compositions, cannot deem President White's estimate of his musical ability at all extravagant.

At his suggestion the Regents placed a sum of money at his disposal for the purchase in Europe of casts, statuettes, and photographs illustrative of archaeology and ancient art. Thus was laid the foundation of our Museum of Art, for whose subsequent development he worked so assiduously during the years that followed. Its growth has been due more to his labors than to those of any other person. It was largely through his influence that the eminent sculptor, Randolph Rogers, decided to give us the casts of his works, and that other valuable works of art have been presented to the University.

He brought back from Europe higher ideals of his own work and much broader conceptions of the function of this University. He used in conversation to reproach himself that when in 1851 Dr. Wayland unfolded his large views of what our American colleges and universities should attempt, he had not acquired breadth enough to sympathize with the ideas of that great teacher. But after coming here he was awakened by President Tappan's vigorous expositions of educational doctrines, which were quite in harmony with those of Dr. Wayland, to a clear perception of their worth. After his observation of European universities he was ever an enthusiastic supporter of the plans on which fortunately for us our first President shaped the life of this University during the eleven years of his administration.

The spolia opima, which he brought from his literary, aesthetic, and archaeological studies abroad added a new charm to his teaching. In his presence, in his classroom, even the raw and untrained student felt at once the subtle influence of the spirit of culture, which emanated from the instructor. The fineness of literary perception, the delicacy of taste, which revealed themselves through all his interpretation of the ancient masters of thought, polished and elevated while they instructed the class. His exalted ethical nature led him also to impress upon his pupils without cant or platitudes, but in the most natural and effective manner, the moral, and the heroic qualities of the ancient characters of whom they were reading. He made these characters living, real persons, who had their messages for our times and for us. The old literature was made vital with a fresh and throbbing life that poured its currents into the lives of the youthful students of our day. Withal there was in him the inexpressible charm of the finest breeding, which wielded a power mightier than that of official authority even over the rudest and most uncultivated student. How many a graduate have we heard say that two impressions above all they brought from Professor Frieze's classroom; namely, that he was the perfect gentleman, and that he had the finest culture. Who can measure the refining influence of such a mind and character on the hundreds of men and women who have passed under his hands?

He not only won the admiration of his pupils as the accomplished scholar and gentleman, but he also won their affection as their most faithful friend. His sympathy was so quick and expressive that they were drawn to him with a strong attachment. In his later years this love of his students for him was mingled with a sort of tender and filial reverence, which it was very charming to behold. It would have been simply impossible for any one of them designedly to do anything that would have caused him the least annoyance or to withhold any service, which would afford him gratification. This affectionate devotion of his pupils was to him, as it is to every teacher, the most gratifying reward of all his labors.

On the resignation of President Haven, in 1869, he was appointed Acting President of the University. His characteristic modesty led him to hesitate about accepting the position, but he finally yielded to the persuasion of the Board of Regents. The two years during which he was the chief executive were marked by important events in the history of the Institution.

In 1870 women were admitted to all Departments of the University. This step was taken by the Regents rather in deference to public opinion than to the wishes of the Faculties. I think that Professor Frieze, like most of his colleagues, assented to the action of the Regents rather than urged it. To tell the truth, there were many misgivings here on the ground concerning the experiment of admitting women to these halls. But Mr. Frieze and his colleagues generally soon became convinced that the action of the Board was wise and he did all in his power to make the experiment successful. I never heard him speak of the presence of women in the University except with the greatest satisfaction. Another important step was due altogether to the suggestion of the Acting President. That was the establishment of the so-called diploma relation with the preparatory schools. The plan, which he proposed and which was adopted in 1871, was an adaptation to our circumstances of the German method of receiving students into the universities from the gymnasiums. The University authorities have adopted no measure in many years, which have been more beneficial to both the University and the schools, and none, which has been more widely or profitably imitated by other universities.

It was owing to the prompt action of Dr. Frieze and the generosity of his friend, Philo Parsons that the library of Professor Rau, of Heidelberg, was secured for us. It was at the instance of the Acting President that the age for admission to the Literary Department was raised from fourteen to sixteen years, that music was introduced into the chapel service, that the custom of furnishing a dinner to the alumni and friends of the University on Commencement Day was introduced, and that with the hope of creating a common interest between the several Departments an attempt was made, though afterwards abandoned, to observe a University Day by public exercises. It was during his term of office that the Legislature voted the sum of seventy-five thousand dollars for the erection of the main building between the two wings of University Hall, and so established the happy precedent, which every subsequent Legislature has followed in furnishing liberal means for the erection of needed buildings for the University. The power of Dr. Frieze's active and fertile mind was felt in every Department of the Institution. He was afterwards twice called to the position of Acting President during the absence of the President, once serving from June 1880, to February 1882, and again from October 1887, to January 1888. The heavy wear and tear of administrative labors from 1869 to 1871, rendered perhaps more difficult by the fact that he was known to be discharging them only temporarily, made a serious draught upon his not very robust constitution. No sooner was an incumbent of the Presidency, whom he with the partiality of early friendship had commended, chosen by the Regents than he sought and obtained leave of absence in order to visit Europe again. He and his family remained abroad two years. He spent his first winter at Tubingen, diligently studying Sanscrit under that great scholar, Professor Roth, attending lectures at his pleasure in the University of Tubingen, and mingling freely in society with the professors. He afterwards spent a long time at the charming spot, which President Tappan subsequently chose as his home, Vevey. He travelled through Switzerland, went again to the chief Italian cities, remained for several weeks at Munich, and visited among other places Paris, Dusseldorf, Berlin, and Oxford. His object in this tour was not so much to devote himself to study as to seek tranquil enjoyment and recuperation in the midst of beautiful scenery and those aesthetic delights, which fine music, and the galleries of art afforded him. He came home in the summer of 1873, refreshed and invigorated, and ready to resume with zest the duties of his chair.

After his return his ideal of the proper work of his department and of the University was even broader and richer than before. He gave instruction to advanced classes chiefly in the works of Tacitus, of Seneca, and of Pliny the Younger. He lectured and commented on these authors in a very free, large, and suggestive manner. He discoursed with equal fervor on the pregnant, compact, sententious style of Tacitus, on the lofty ethics of the stoic philosophy as interpreted by Seneca, and on the high breeding and varied culture of that fine Roman gentleman, the proconsul of Pontus and Bithynia. He has also lectured for many years past on the history of ancient art. He found opportunity to set forth in his lectures the functions of the several fine arts, to expound the canons of art criticism, to direct his pupils to the illustrations of art to be found in our Library and our Museum of Art, and to give them the results of his careful and appreciative studies in the museums of Europe.

In his teaching of Latin authors, though he always insisted on that accurate grammatical knowledge, without which one cannot be said to know a language, and though he did not in the least undervalue the importance of exhaustive philological training for some students, he was always inclined, as has been intimated, to concentrate the attention of his pupils chiefly on the literary and ethical lessons to be drawn from the Latin writers. These lessons, he believed, were what all except the few who were to be technical philologists most needed. More and more in his later years he was disposed to emphasize this idea. He insisted that Latin should be so taught as to form a solid foundation for the literary culture of college students, and that the importance of so teaching it was rapidly increasing from the fact that, especially in the West, large numbers read Latin, who read no Greek. He was ever urging pupils to take Greek with the Latin. He regretted the tendency among classical teachers to confine themselves to one of these two ancient languages. He thought that by excessive specializing in their work they incurred the danger of becoming narrow, and that it would be better if, as in German universities, our classical professors gave some instruction in both literatures. But upon no point was he accustomed to dwell in these later years with so much fervor as upon the transcendent importance of teaching Latin literature not merely as a collection of works of gifted men, but as the expression of the life of the great Roman nation, uttering itself in history, philosophy, and poetry. Upon the exposition of it he would turn all the illumination to be furnished by Roman archaeology and Roman art. According to his conception it was not Latin that we should study so much as Roman, the achievements, the spirit, the vital power of the Roman race. Nor should we teach and study the literature of Rome, with whatever enthusiasm and admiration, merely as a beautiful creation of a dead past, but rather as the flowering of an imperishable life, whose vital currents have been flowing through all the Western civilization of these eighteen centuries, and are still beating in the pulses of this nineteenth century. It was the Rome which has persisted with a power that no Goth or Vandal could overcome, the Rome which helps shape and fertilize our art, our laws, our literatures to-day, the Rome which bids fair to endure when every vestige of her proudest material structures shall have crumbled into dust — it was that great, that glorious, that immortal Rome, which he sought to recreate for his loving pupils.

Dr. Frieze discharged the debt, which every man is said to owe to his profession by preparing editions of the complete works of Vergil and of the tenth and twelfth books of Quintilian. These made his name familiar to students throughout the land. His accurate scholarship and his fine literary spirit here as elsewhere characterized his work and commended it to the approbation of our best classical scholars. His edition of Quintilian was the first prepared to meet the wants of American students. He had a marked fondness for Vergil. I have sometimes thought — perhaps it is only a fancy — that he was drawn to the old Latin poet by a certain resemblance between their characters. All the traditions depict the bard of Mantua as endowed not only with a graceful and beautiful mind, but also with a sweet, gentle, modest, affectionate nature, that bound friends to him by the strongest ties. I am sure there are some of us here who, in the sense of our great personal loss, have found springing to our lips those words of Horace concerning his friend, animae dimidium meae. We should certainly place him in the group of friends to whom we should apply those other words in which Horace speaks of Vergil, Plotius, and Varius:

"Animae, quales Deque candidiores

  Terra tulit, neque quis me sit devioctior alter."

Dr. Frieze wrote three years ago a charming little volume which was published in London on Giovanni Dupre, the eminent Italian sculptor. It set forth in flowing and simple style the story of Dupre's art life and revealed the author in every page as the sympathetic and appreciative lover of whatever is pure and true in sculpture. It contained also the translation of two lectures on Art from the pen of Dupre's-friend, Augusto Conti, Professor of Philosophy in the University of Florence and President of the Academy Delia Crusca. The book has been received with much favor by lovers of art both in England and in this country. The preparation and publication of it led to a correspondence between the writer and Professor Conti, which was very gratifying to our friend.

Two of Dr. Frieze's addresses may be here mentioned as especially worthy of notice. One was his discourse on Dr. Tappan, delivered in 1882, and the other was his discourse on the Relations of the State University to Religion, given at our semi-centennial celebration in 1887. The former furnishes the best portraiture ever made of the first President of the University; the latter the ablest discussion ever bestowed on the subject it handles. Both give us fine illustrations of the author's broad conception of the function of a State University and of his incisive, vigorous, and effective style of writing.

Among minor productions of his pen may be named a paper on Art Museums in connection with Libraries, furnished for the Report of the United States Commissioner of Education for 1876, the descriptive Catalogue of our Art Museum, which shows the marks of much research, and felicitous articles in the University journals on deceased professors. The last article from his hand, written only a few days before his death at my urgent request, was a most interesting one, suggested by the presentation to our gallery of the statue of General Cass, and published in the Detroit Free Press.

It was always a matter of regret to his friends that one who wrote so well was so reluctant to write for publication, and even yet more reluctant to speak in public. His modesty led him to underrate the value of his work, and he was extremely averse to what he called the drudgery of committing his thoughts to paper. Nothing but a high sense of duty could overcome his almost insuperable reluctance, due in large part to his diffidence, to give a public address.

While conducting his own department with the highest aims, Dr. Frieze was ever seeking the improvement and development of the whole University. He was continually urging the lifting of the Institution out of the narrow ruts of a small local college, and giving it the scope and elevation and power of a national University. He never came so near the manifestation of impatience verging on anger as when some policy was proposed which, he thought, would bind us down to methods that we ought long ago to have outgrown and abandoned. His vision was ever stretching out to a broad horizon for us. He took a most active part in the important changes, which were made in the Literary Department between 1875 and 1880. He was an earnest advocate of the plan adopted in 1874 of conferring Master's degrees only on examination, and also of the rule allowing candidates for Bachelor's degrees to concentrate their work in the latter part of their course on some three branches of study. He favored warmly the introduction of the elective system into the courses of study under the limitations, which are now in force. He was chiefly instrumental in persuading the Regents to appoint a Professor of Music who should give instruction in the history and theory of music, and in inducing the citizens of Ann Arbor to establish a school for vocal and instrumental practice. Indeed, during all the years of his residence here he was ever active in stimulating both in the city and in the University the study of music.

He was a stanch advocate of the policy of preserving the unity and integrity of the University by retaining all its Departments here. Whenever the proposal was made, as it was repeatedly made during his term of service, to transfer a part of our work elsewhere, he most earnestly opposed it. He believed profoundly that in the concentration of all our forces here lay our hope of giving the greatest efficiency to each Department and to the University as a whole. He always had an unbounded faith in the future of this Institution. In days of trial, of disappointments, of unjust criticism of the University, when others were discouraged and despondent, although such misfortune caused his sensitive nature keen suffering, he was always full of hope that the clouds would soon give way to sunshine. He was sure that the University had gained such headway that no obstacles could much impede its progress. He believed that it was so deeply entrenched in the affection of the citizens of Michigan that they would not suffer it to be seriously embarrassed. How often have I heard him in years past say that there was no reason why we should not have two thousand students, and express his strong desire to live to see such an attendance. He was spared to see that desire gratified, and repeatedly during the early weeks of this University year he dwelt with delight upon the fulfillment of his prediction and the granting of his wish. Not that he ever confounded bigness with greatness, or desired the reputation of the University to rest upon the number of its students rather than upon the excellence of its work. He was ever devising means to improve our facilities for teaching and for elevating the character of our instruction. But he felt that with the advantages we could offer we deserved to have a large attendance, and that such a proof of success as the presence of large classes affords was a source of strength to the University.

His mind was extremely fertile in suggestions for developing the growth and increasing the usefulness of this Institution. He had observed keenly and studied carefully the colleges and universities of this country and of other countries, and had reflected much on the causes of their failures and successes. He was very apt in drawing lessons from their history. He seemed to be ever busy in seeking to apply those lessons to our conditions. In all these eighteen years of my intimate companionship with him here, in our long daily walks together, the burden of his conversation was that topic. To build up this University, that was "his meat and his drink," the dominant thought of his life, which seemed never to be absent from his mind. No one of the many faithful teachers under this roof ever gave himself with more supreme devotion, body and soul, to the interests of this school of learning. And no man since the days of that great leader, who gave to the University in so large degree its present form and spirit, Dr. Tappan, has furnished so many of the ideas which have shaped and enriched its life as Dr. Frieze. Into its life his very mind and heart have been builded.

Because his knowledge of university problems was so large, and his judgment was regarded by his colleagues as so sound, he has always exerted a strong influence over the Literary Faculty and over the whole University Senate, and has inspired them with his own hopefulness concerning the future of the Institution and with his own broad views of university education. It need hardly be said that with his generous conception of a university he cherished ideals, which have not yet been realized. He looked forward with fervent desire and with strong hope to the establishment of a school of art as a part of our organization. With the collections of statuary which we have and of pictures which are to come to us, properly housed in a fitting structure specially prepared for them, he believed that we might well set up such a school. He also longed for the day when we might relegate to the preparatory schools or to colleges the work now done in the first year, and perhaps also that of the second year of the literary course, and organize a three years' course on the model of the German universities. If that plan should remain impracticable, as for the present it is, he favored the conferring of the Bachelor's degree at the end of three years of undergraduate work, so that students might also complete their professional studies before they were too far advanced in years. He advocated this plan in his Report as Acting President in 1881 in one of the ablest papers ever published on that subject. This brief rehearsal of some of his ideas on university policy may indicate how rich his mind was in pregnant suggestions and how fertile in the conception of generous and far-reaching plans. Few men in this country comprehended so thoroughly the problems which are now set before the American universities or saw so clearly how those problems should be solved.

I have thus rapidly sketched an outline of the career of Dr. Frieze and have shown, however imperfectly, the spirit in which he wrought through his long and beautiful life. The chief traits of his mind and character are familiar to us all.

His mind was one of great activity and marked quickness of apprehension. Possessed of a highly nervous temperament, he had a certain restlessness of body and mind. This did not betray him, as it does some, into disjointed and fragmentary work, or lead him to hasty and immature decisions, but rather revealed itself in an intellectual eagerness and alertness and celerity. In his best days his enthusiasm made this promptness and vivacity of mental action contagious and highly stimulating to his pupils.

In his reading, at least in his later years, he followed the old maxim of multum, non multa. He read a few masters thoroughly rather than many books superficially or even rapidly. But having in his early manhood obtained a reading knowledge of the French, German, Spanish, and Italian, as well as of the ancient classical languages, and having strong literary and aesthetic tastes, his studies in literature and in the history of art, and especially of music, had taken a pretty wide range. In any society of literary scholars or artists his well-stored mind was sure to contribute something of value and of interest to the conversation. He left upon them as upon his pupils the deep impression that he was a man of rare culture, of true literary instincts, of the finest mental texture, of rich and generous attainments. But his literary and aesthetic senses, his artistic feeling, the justness of his critical judgment were more conspicuous than his learning.

Perhaps no trait in his mental constitution was more marked than his love of the beautiful, whether in art or in nature. His soul was sensitive in the highest degree to any appeal which beauty made, whether through form or color or sound. Architecture, sculpture, painting, music, in all he delighted with the passion of an artist. His love of nature was like that of a poet. The grass, the flowers, the trees, the streams, he held sweet commerce with them all. Never was he happier than in his long rambles through the woods and fields. And how he loved our woods and fields. His strong local attachment to this place, which was always finding utterance in his conversation, gave him an enthusiasm about the scenery of this neighborhood on which his friends occasionally rallied him. But for miles around he could guide you to every "coigne of vantage," every shady nook, every meadow carpeted with the finest turf, every graceful sweep in the stream. With what ardor he would in your walk with him arrest your steps again and again, to dilate upon the charms of the bit of landscape before you. With what zest and pride he would exclaim, as from some hilltop he caught the view of the spires and towers of the city, "it is really finer than the view of Oxford hanging on my wall." His love for the town and the University, and his delight in the pleasing scenery about us, made him often speak with gratitude of the kindly Providence, which had cast his lot in what he regarded as an ideal home.

Dr. Frieze's character was marked by an unusual combination of great modesty — I might perhaps say diffidence, or even shyness — with real courage. His modesty sometimes impressed those who did not know him well as timidity. He had a very humble estimate of his abilities and attainments. This diffidence caused him much anxiety in the earlier years of his work as a teacher. Even in these later years the visit of strangers to his class made him uncomfortable. He used to ask me not to bring visitors to his lecture room. When he had some important suggestion to make to the Faculty concerning University affairs, he often persuaded some one else to present it. Only when he was convinced that it was really necessary, often not until he was pressed by his colleagues for his opinion, would he speak in the Faculty meetings. He was ready enough to express his views on any subject in private conversation, but had the most unusual reluctance to present them formally and in public. But in the Faculty the respect for his opinion was such that when it was made known, whether through the lips of others or by himself, it carried great weight. Yet, notwithstanding his great modesty, when it became necessary to act and courage was needed for the act, he was never found flinching from duty. He disliked controversy, avoided it when possible, and often averted it by his conciliatory spirit. But in great crises in the history of this Institution, though he was never clamorous in debate, he stood at his post firm as a rock for what he deemed wise and right, whether the issue was with insubordinate students or with external foes of the University.

He was eminently social. He was fond of the society of friends with tastes congenial to his own, and was one of the most charming of companions and truest of friends. He loved good cheer. His conversation was vivacious and sparkling. His bearing was refined and attractive. Utterly free from all censoriousness, never indulging in acrid criticisms of others, his affectionate, generous nature won all hearts and imparted to them the same genial spirit which ever dwelt in him. He was a most welcome guest in every household. He carried sunshine into every company. His tender, sympathetic, loving nature gave a depth and richness to his more intimate friendship, which only those who enjoyed it can measure.

The religious life of Dr. Frieze was simple, sincere, and beautiful. Warmly attached to his own branch of the church, he had the most catholic and fraternal feeling for every other branch. One of the most interesting papers he ever wrote was a plea for the true Christian union of all believers, which he prepared about a year ago for the Students' Christian Association. His faith was singularly childlike. To him religion was not something formal, not something "to be worn on the sleeve," or obtrusively talked about in the market place, but the cheerful, trustful, reverent spirit of the Christian disciple, moulding and inspiring the whole life, in its pleasures as in its sorrows, in its daily routine of toil as in the hours of worship in the church. The vexed questions of philosophical, scientific, and theological speculation did not disturb the serenity of his soul. He understood their import. He appreciated and lamented the embarrassments of those who were troubled by them. But the foundations of his spiritual life, laid deep in a loving trust of his Heavenly Father and in the joyful following of the Lord Jesus Christ, were never shaken by the storms of discussion, which in this age beat upon every thoughtful mind. A soul more naturally and cheerfully devout than his, one that in all moods and all experiences was more completely transfused with the spirit of love to God and love to man, one of whom we may more truly say,

"Whose Faith and work were bells of full accord" I have never known.

And so death had no terrors for him. He often spoke of it to me as one speaks of a coming journey. At the beginning of each of the last two or three winters he has deemed it not improbable that bronchial or pulmonary complications might prove fatal to him. His chief anxiety seemed to be not about himself, but about his family, and about his department of work in the University. After the death of his dear friend and associate, Professor Elisha Jones, to whom he had hoped to leave the care of the instruction in Latin, he was extremely anxious that a successor in sympathy with his views of the conduct of the Latin work should be found and appointed. After his wish had been gratified and plans for the conduct of his department had been matured, and especially when the University year opened so prosperously, he was extremely happy. Again and again in his long walks with me in the early autumn he spoke of the gracious Providence which had during his life cast for him the lines in so pleasant places; of the charming memories of his college days, of his and my old-time friends in Rhode Island, of his pride in many of his former pupils, and especially in those who had become his colleagues in the Faculty, of the early struggles of the University, and of his confident hope of its future prosperity. Some months ago, after much urging on my part, I obtained from him a partial promise to make a sketch of his life, a promise that unhappily he did not live to fulfill.

He began the labors of the year in good spirits and, as we thought, with a measure of strength which might at least carry him through the winter. We now know that the insidious and fatal disease, which caused his death, was even then sapping the foundations of his life. He soon took a grave view of his malady. His mind became clouded at times. But it was pathetic — may we not say characteristic — which his spirit of love and tenderness seemed to shape his visions even in the wanderings of his mind. His attending physician has told us the touching story how, in those half-conscious hours of his last illness, he recited with apparent delight the names of associates — dear as pupils and colleagues and friends — and expressed his gratitude that they had so cheered his life. Pure and loving heart! not one of us ever gave to thee a tithe of what thou gavest to us.

And now after all that I have said, after all that any one could say, I feel and you feel how far short my words have come, or any words can come, of making a complete portraiture of our friend. There was something in his winning personality that eluded analysis. There was in him a certain charm of soul, which cannot be fully depicted with such an instrument as human speech. But memory will preserve for us the sweet recollections of the winsomeness of that personality, of the attractiveness of that spirit. And so for years to come his radiant presence will not be altogether lost to us. And so long as this University shall stand, something, we may hope, of the benign influence of this refined, devoted, noble scholar and teacher will remain as a factor in its life.