Looking for Tom Campbell

(The following was written for a 1987 issue of The Shield by Kent Christopher Owen,
Indiana Beta 1958, then Mystagogue of the Phi Kappa Psi Fraternity. Additional
information from Stephen Lasday, Pennsylvania Eta 1984, follows. - Michael H. McCoy,
Historian of Phi Kappa Psi.)

Why should one care where an obscure Presbyterian minister who died 125 years ago is
buried? It's the sort of thing amateur genealogists and local antiquarians bother about, but
hardly the Fraternity's most pressing concern. After all, no one has yet determined where
Mozart lies in Vienna. Why should it make any difference whether we know about an old
Phi Psi named Tom Campbell?

Why, indeed? Those who have read the annals of Phi Kappa Psi know it was Thomas
Cochran Campbell, Pennsylvania Alpha 1853, who created the Fraternity's Ritual,
devised its operating procedures, conducted most of the early correspondence, worked
prodigiously to establish the Fraternity as a sturdy and growing presence, and above all
inspired his Brothers to cherish the Fraternity. In fact, it was Tom Campbell, even more
than the Founders, Letterman and Moore, who enabled Phi Kappa Psi to live and flourish.

Hence, at the very least, to find the grave of Tom Campbell is to pay a just debt long
overdue. But, in a larger sense, to find Tom Campbell is to reclaim a heritage too
precious to be lost or forgotten: the original meaning and purpose of Phi Kappa Psi. In
effect, then, the search for Tom Campbell was more than an act of piety; it was an
expedition to explore the true sources of Phi Kappa Psi.

According to the Fraternity's Centennial History, Campbell died on June 8, 1862 at the
age of 26 in Marion, Ohio. There he was buried, say the History and the alumni records
of Washington and Jefferson College. He had been an interim minister for a few months
at the Presbyterian Church in Marion. He left a widow, the former Jennie Gormley,
whom he had married in January 1860. There is no mention of the cause of
death.

Through the years, a few Chapters of the Fraternity, notably Ohio Alpha, and individual
Phi Psis, notably J. Duncan Campbell, Penn Epsilon, (a distinguished Phi Psi historian
and journalist, but no kin to Tom) tried to find the grave, but without success and without
leaving a trail of clues they had followed.

Marion is neither so big nor complex a city as to baffle a hunter. Its most famous
attraction is the mausoleum of Warren Gamaliel Harding, which rivals that of a Persian
satrap or an imperial potentate. Marion is the kind of town that remembers who is buried
there, and where. But there is little to go on as far as Campbell is concerned because the
city's health records did not begin until 1867, and the newspaper files for 1861-65 are
missing.
 2

The history of the First Presbyterian Church says: "The Rev. William Campbell, a young
man, supplied the pulpit for a time during Pastor Fry's service as Chaplain of the 82nd
Regiment in the Civil War, and died here." Inquiries to public officials turned up nothing,
and a local historian checked the burial records of the city's cemeteries as well as those of
Marion County and the surrounding counties.

Neither the Columbus Presbytery nor the alumni office of W & J could provide an
answer, although the latter did list Campbell's attendance from 1856 until 1859 at what
was then the Western Theological seminary in Pittsburgh.

If no grave could be found in Marion nor record of a burial, what did that suggest?

The Fraternity had, after all, made no great effort throughout the years to pay Tom
Campbell more than ordinary respect. Was this a mystery almost as intriguing as that of
the man himself?

The authoritative source on Campbell is William Keady's "An Old Boy's Recollections",
published in 1881 and reprinted in the Centennial History.

Keady, probably Campbell's closest friend in the Fraternity, sketched a striking portrait of
the Rev. James R. and Mary Campbell's eldest son, born at sea and reared in northern
India, who was brought to the United States in 1847 for schooling in Philadelphia.

Resistant to the stern discipline of the Presbyterians, he was placed in the House of
Refuge, a combination orphanage, reform school, and settlement house. In 1853,
Campbell was entrusted to the care of Will Keady, a printer's devil, who had earned
enough money and gained enough support from local Presbyterians to enter college at
Jefferson. Campbell went along with Keady as a ward, released, as it were, to his
custody.

A colorful but inauspicious beginning: a poor, working boy, older than his classmates,
and a much younger juvenile delinquent (at least in the eyes of the Presbyterians).

According to Keady's account, Campbell cut a strange figure at Jefferson, set apart from
other students by his speech, dress, manner, and temperament. Sons of foreign
missionaries were no novelties at Jefferson, but Campbell assuredly was. Then as now,
young men can be cruel to those markedly different from themselves, feeling their own
conforming selves challenged by odd men out. From what Keady wrote of him, Campbell
was not so much a self-conscious, rebellious non- conformist as he was simply different
because of his background, upbringing, and peculiar endowment.

That he should have been admitted to Phi Kappa Psi, or for that matter, to any fraternity
at all, testifies to the Founders' judgment of his character as well as the tolerance of the
other eight early members. Campbell was the eleventh initiate; subsequently, Keady was
 3

persuaded to join in 1854 as the seventeenth. It's fair to say any group that included Tom
Campbell can be called oddly assorted.

From the very start, he thrust himself into the leadership of the Chapter, taking on chores
and inventing projects the others were wise, perhaps relieved to have him pursue. It is
also fair to say Campbell went at the work with missionary zeal. Just so. Keady recalls
his quirks and crotchets candidly yet affectionately, as if to say "there was never anyone
quite like Tom Campbell." And "we never knew quite what to make of him, but we loved
him all the better."

Vivid as Keady's portrait is, much is left to the imagination. Given the suggestions of
erratic, compulsive behavior, frequent melancholy, and surges of feverish energy, one is
led to suspect that he was a manic-depressive. Psychobiography is notoriously tricky,
especially in the hands of amateur psychologizers.

Still, such conjecture can be plausibly advanced on the basis of what Keady observed and
what others seemed to corroborate.

It allows for a tentative, partial interpretation of Campbell's personality and experiences,

although it certainly cannot be said to "explain" the whole man. If it be true, manic-
depressive illness (described in 19th century literature as melancholy of Romanticism
characteristic) may indicate what in part Campbell's associates found strange and
inaccessible in him. It may also help to account for the apparent difficulties he had in
being ordained as a minister and called to a pastorate.

Whatever the whole truth, there was something about Campbell, something deeply
embedded in his nature that fascinated those around him. If one reads Keady's lines, the
inference is fairly plain: Campbell unsettled people. He was unremarkable in appearance:
short, slightly built, dark complexioned, not good-looking but not homely out of the
ordinary.

Despite that, his presence transmitted energy with such intensity that it made others take
notice. It may have been the constant, penetrating look in his eyes, not quite a stare but
still a probing, searching look that caught and held anyone he spoke to. His voice may
have kept the echoes of a Celtic lilt, a rhapsodic fluency mixed with the languid accent of
the Anglo-Indians, themselves more voluble than either the English or the Americans of
the day. And he may have been more impulsive of gesture and manner than the genteel
standard considered proper.

Perhaps he was at once animated and withdrawn, charming and distant, hinting at a
certain wildness, which, while by no means fierce or rude, was enough to put off
respectable folk unused to enthusiasm. Indeed, Campbell may have been more vibrantly
alive, more insistently present, more directly personal than nice young gentleman of the
right sort. If he made some feel ill at ease, he must have stirred others to sense a corn
polling sincerity, an authenticity of self that cut keenly through pretense and affectation.
 4

"Enthusiasm" is derived from the Greek words that mean "possessed by a god" which in
his own way Tom Campbell surely was.

Hence, it was no wonder Campbell should pose a mystery to those who sought his grave.
Had he died a suicide and thus been buried in an unmarked grave in unhallowed ground?
Was his death the result of a scandal once known but now overlooked by the Fraternity?
Would it be wiser not to inquire into his last days, to let the whole matter drop? Or had
the Fraternity failed to recognize his achievement? Did Phi Kappa Psi owe him a debt of
honor that obliged his Brothers to discover the truth and thus, in a sense relieve his name
of any suspicion?

Accordingly, by the fall of 1985 it was high time to make a thorough and, one hoped,
conclusive search.

After inquiries in Marion and at W & J had brought in little, it was time to cast the net
wider among the Presbyterians, a bookish people who keep good accounts. The First
Presbyterian Church of Bloomington, Indiana (which Indiana University's first President
Andrew Wylie and his wife Margaret, William Henry Letterman's older sister, joined
when they moved to Hoosierland), suggested trying the Presbyterian Historical Society in
Philadelphia. The Mystagogue Emeritus Walter Lee Sheppard, Jr., New York Alpha '29,
and a Philadelphian, offered to help, and on about March 12, 1986, (the 150th
anniversary of Campbell's birth on the Indian Ocean), he reported that one of his
operatives had come across Campbell's obituary in The Presbyterian Historical Almanac
for 1863, which, for the first time, provided a detailed account of Tom Campbell's life
and career.

One sentence in particular stood out: "His remains were taken to Allegheny city (sic) for
interment." Reference librarians at Indiana University soon located Allegheny city on a
mid-19th century map within the central section of what is now Pittsburgh. Letters to the
coroner and the public health department of Pittsburgh went unanswered, as did a few
other local inquiries. It became clear that the municipal bureaucracy could be penetrated
only in person. On, then, to Pittsburgh.

When the subject of Tom Campbell came up at the Grand Arch Council in Scottsdale,
Arizona, in August 1986, one young man seemed particularly interested. That, bless his
heart, was Stephen Lasday of Pennsylvania Eta and Pittsburgh, who took note of
Campbell's connections with Allegheny city and the Presbyterians, both orthodox and
reformed, and volunteered to take it from there.

Calling on his familiarity with the vicinity, a liberal education at Franklin & Marshall,
and the doggedness of a pre-med, Brother Lasday triangulated the evidence and arrived at
a solution. On August 25, 1986, he called to announce that he had found the grave of
Thomas Cochran Campbell in the Allegheny Cemetery on the edge of downtown
Pittsburgh.
 5

His letter, written that day, expresses what he did and how he felt more poignantly than
any paraphrase could do.

During the days that followed, he and another Penn Etan, Scott Leib, returned to the
Gormley family plot to clear away the overgrowth from Campbell's tombstone, make
rubbings of it, and take photographs of the site. Although Steve Lasday's discovery may
not match Howard Carter's excavation of the tomb of Tutankhamen, it stands as a
singular event in Phi Kappa Psi. Beyond that, it means even more because of what it
symbolizes.

On the burial certificate issued on June 10, 1862 and in the Presbyterian Almanac
obituary, the cause of death is given as "brain fever" and "affection of the brain."
Translated from 19th-century medical parlance, this means a form of meningitis, probably
tubercular, if the symptoms presented in the obituary are accurate. The finding thus puts
to rest any untoward suspicion.

Thanks to Brother Sheppard's exertions, additional information about the Campbell

family has come to light, again from the Presbyterian Almanac for 1863.

The Reverend James Robert Campbell, father of Thomas, also died in 1862 on September
18 at Landour, India, and is included in the same edition of the Almanac that carries his
son's.

What was then northern India, the Punjab, where the Campbells carried out their
missionary work, is now part of Pakistan.

Despite efforts by Brother John Dallas Stempel, Indiana Beta '79, U.S. consul general in
Madras, no further information about the Campbells has yet developed, although Brother
Omar Qureshi of Penn Eta and Rawalpindi, Pakistan, intends to take up the search when
he returns home in the summer of 1987. (By the way, the town formerly called
Campbellpur in the Punjab, now known as Hasan Abdal, was not named for the Rev. Dr.
Campbell, but for Sir Colin Campbell, a 19th century military hero, at least to the
British.)

Does the discovery of the grave in Allegheny Cemetery provide a final answer?

In the sense that the essential facts of his life and career are at last established, and that
there is a satisfactory ending, it does. But in the larger sense of what Tom Campbell
should mean to the Fraternity, it serves to raise more questions. And not only because
there is so little information about his childhood in India, school days in Philadelphia and
in the House of Refuge, years at Western Seminary and short periods as churches in
Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan, arid most of all, his wife Jennie and their marriage.

There is always the possibility, however remote, that in some attic or cellar on old trunk
contains diaries, journals, letters, notebooks, which could be of help. Even so, the basic
facts, now set in order, outline a troubled, tragically brief life.
 6

But the larger question that remains to be answered lends itself only in part so such
matters of fact. What is the real significance of Thomas Cochran Campbell's legacy to
Phi Kappa Psi? How should he be properly remembered and honored?

Apart from the emphatic testimony of Will Keady, the full extent of Campbell's work
cannot be measured, largely because most of the materials he composed no longer exist.

Consequently, one must take the word of early members that his creations and services
formed the very foundation of the Fraternity. Although it is impossible to specify
everything he made and did, Keady affirms that the elements central and essential to the
Ritual are his work; these have remained the same through the revisions made by Keady
himself, Samuel Niccolls, Robert Lowry, Henry Scudder, Walter Lee Sheppard Sr., Sion
Bass Smith, Harlan Selby, John Henry Frizell, among the more prominent.

Despite the refinement of language and procedure, the root meaning of Phi Kappa Psi, its
ideals, symbols, and principles have remained intact. In theory as in practice, "the eternal
principles" can be presented in new settings and through precepts, admonitions, and
forms of language and ceremony different from those of earlier generations. That is the
strength of Campbell’s vision.

From his religious backgrounds, Campbell derived the essence of the Judeo-Christian
tradition and made it fit with what he had learned in India of the Hindu, Islamic, and
Buddhist traditions. The Ritual he devised is remarkable and at the time of its creation,
unique, for its non-sectarian openness to all men who love God and seek to do His will,
no matter what their worship may assume.

The Ritual owes much of its essential value to the moral philosophy of Plato as embodied
in Socrates as he appears throughout the dialogues, although there remain no direct
quotations from Plato's writings in the modern version. Moreover, there are resonant
echoes of Aristotle's "Nichomachean Ethics" and Cicero's "On Duties."

Above all, the primacy of personal integrity and moral responsibility is charged with a
conception of manly honor, which reconciles the ancient code of chivalry to the decency
and loving- kindness of the true gentleman. What could have been a pretentious hodge-
podge of conflicting doctrines and florid ideals is expressed with simplicity, dignity, and
clarity.

While less than universal, the Ritual is expansive enough to encompass good men of
every condition. In its stress on a personal constitution of checks and balances, it takes
both a classical and an American perspective on how one's life should be governed to the
best effect.

In its adherence to moral obligations, the Ritual implicity affirms "the great joy of serving
others" as the necessary concomitant for the attainment of self-respect, the "peace and
harmony" that come to the good man who lives a well-measured life.
 7

Campbell distilled the essence from the Judeo-Christian religious tradition, and
combining that with the essence of the Greco-Roman moral tradition. Thus, he expressed
what he believed to be the moral condition of the good man, the gentleman who strives to
advance human dignity, who conducts his life with a constant vision of noble ideals,
principles, and purposes.

Campbell was also thoroughly Celtic and Protestant, and it may be no coincidence that
the Fraternity's first badge, the monogram of Phi and Psi, resembles the Celtic cross.

That he accomplished this work during his 18th through his 20th years is all the more
astonishing, no matter to what extent he may have understood his own intentions or the
implications of what he had created.

Although it is again impossible to identify the exact passages in the texts Campbell
studied, it is fair to say that the spirit of such classical works informs the whole of the
Ritual, even if the letter is not precisely stated. Perhaps that is the right way to express
what Campbell gave to the Fraternity: it is his spirit in which Phi Kappa Psi lives and
moves and has its being. Hence, what we possess is not the mere letter of his work, but its
larger spirit, which, like brotherly love, should animate our every thought.

At his death Charles Page Thomas Moore was 73, a wise judge in the fullness of his
years. William Henry Letterman died at 48, a compassionate physician in the prime of his
maturity. But Thomas Cochran Campbell was 26, barely grown to manhood, a
bridegroom, still struggling to find himself as a minister and as a man. Their lives,
careers, and destinies were decidedly different one from another; yet in the ideals,
principles, and purposes their lives manifested, these three expressed all that is noble and
generous in man. In any account of what Phi Kappa Psi represents, these three belong
together—as the Phi, the Kappa, and the Psi belong together.

Allegheny Cemetery is magnificent, fine lawns, stately trees, an array of tombs,

monuments, and mausoleums. It is a great city of the dead, where the once rich, powerful,
and prominent of Pittsburgh are buried. Here lie Stephen Foster, the foremost American
composer of the mid-19th century, and Lillian Russell, a celebrated beauty and actress of
the turn of the century.

Steel, aluminum, coal and oil magnates, political, cultural, and social figures, the builders
and leaders of Pittsburgh— many Phi Psis among them. Here, too, is the family plot of
James Gormley, and behind it, set apart from the others, in death as in life, is the flat,
white stone of the Rev. Thomas Cochran Campbell. Overshadowed by the upright
headstone of the Gormleys, the grave is plain, modest, almost lost to the eye, its carved
words worn away by 125 years of natural elements, pollution, and inattention.

To find Tom Campbell, you must know where to look and, then, how to see. It is an
inward as much as an outward act of vision. Even during the long years that passed
before a young Phi Psi went out to look for him, the presence of Tom Campbell was ever
 8

in the midst of the Fraternity. He once persuaded his Brothers to accept "vivemus et
vigemus" as their pass word and rallying cry, for he was convinced that the Fraternity he
had brought to life would inevitably grow to become a strong, steady force for the good.
Call it a matter of faith, if you will. It was his conviction that Phi Kappa Psi would live
and flourish. To that end his life as well as his work was an act of faith.

There should be no new stone to replace the one that has marked his grave since his
young widow put it there in 1862, and there can be no other marker. Let there be in our
memories:

Thomas Cochran Campbell

1836-1862
Master Builder of
The Phi Kappa Psi Fraternity
Author of its Ritual,
Prophet of its Destiny.
May the lives of thy Brothers be true
to the eternal principles of the Noble
Fraternity
that is thy enduring monument.
Vivimus et Vigemus . . .

Location of Gravesite

Steven D. Lasday, Franklin and Marshall, relays in this letter to Mystagogue Kent Owen
the details of the actual location of Campbell's grave site.

Dear Kent,
I am happy to report that the Great Search for Thomas Cochran Campbell has come to a
successful end today. I have just returned from the Allegheny Cemetery, where lies Rev.
Thomas C. Campbell, on the Gormley- Paulson plot. . .

I sat down on the floor with my phone and prepared to spend several hours dedicated to
making progress. Within fifteen minutes, I had got around to calling the right cemetery,
and much to my surprise, our Ritualist was in their records. I asked them to check the plot
owner and year of death, and it seemed that I found the right Thomas Campbell. After
throwing my pile of research notes into the air, I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, went
to get new batteries (they died at the GAC), and proceeded to get lost in my own
hometown.

I pulled into the AAA, got a map of my city, and asked directions to the Allegheny
Cemetery. I found the cemetery down the street, and pulled in. While most would have
gone to the main office to ask directions, I resolved that whatever mystical spirits that
work for Phi Psi would lead me right to the grave, the heavens would part, and Willie and
Chuck themselves would descend from on high, and grant me the Fraternity's Medal of
Honor. After 30 minutes of driving through what is a very scenic place, I asked a
 9

grounds- keeper where section 21 was. I was in the wrong place. After finding the proper
section, I parked, and proceeded to search. Then I saw a worn "E-L-L" on a distant
headstone. I ran over with camera poised, and saw the grave of a one Lula Bell. Last
letters were right, but it wasn't him.

After a period of time, I found I had wandered off the section onto another. It was about
then I realized that if we waited 124 years, we could wait a little longer, and Tom wasn't
exactly waiting for me. If I took time, he wouldn't leave in a huff.

I decided it was ludicrous to rush; but I was filled with adrenaline. I considered enlisting
all the Pittsburgh Phi Psi's and walking through the cemetery in a long line, but I
sharpened my resolve, and started on another lap of the section.

Then I saw, literally out of the corner of my eye. Somebody Gormley Paulson. Sure
enough, there were a whole slew of Gormley's. I found James Gormley, but nowhere on
the lot was our man: I rechecked the tombstones, and then I noticed some headstones in
the ground near the perimeter of the lot. As the anticipation heightened, I ran the last
several steps as I thought I could make out the letters OMAS. C. CAMP. I dropped to my
knees beside the stone and cleared the grass away, which had encroached several inches
onto the stone from all sides.

I remember last week as I was making endless calls to various agencies, I honestly did
not feel I would find Brother Campbell in the days remaining before I had to return to
Franklin and Marshall. Most of the writing, and there is several lines worth, is worn. One
of the few words that were clear was "INDIA."

I tried to take a rubbing, but the paper in my car was thick and the pencil didn't have
much of a point. At this point, I was wondering who had been to visit the Gormley's and
had ignored Tom. I felt something should be said, but I didn't know what, and I was the
only upright person in the area anyway.

I think I said the passwords and "We haven't forgotten you, Brother Campbell." It seemed
appropriated, if only to appease my sense of decorum after scraping anxiously at his
headstone trying to make out words . . .

I took some pictures of the stone and the area, and I remember noting that the simplicity
of his stone compared to the towering obelisks across the road seemed appropriate for the
man who put together the ceremony and moral order that I find so moving every time I
read. My brothers sometimes joke when I get into bed and read the Ritual, but I really
think they ought to go over it sometimes. I have been affectionately dubbed "Junior
Mystagogue of Penn Eta" ... Steve

P.S. Last night in bed I think it finally dawned on me what I've done. I did a lot of
reflecting. If he died at 26, then he had to have written the Ritual when he was in my age
group, if not as an undergraduate. In either case, he was my peer. All the import of the
Ritual—was it written by a college student? If so, then the whole idea of undergraduate
 10

rule seems to become more special to me. And I think that an undergraduate found him—
with the invaluable help and guidance of yourself, of course—has some sort of poetic
justice to it all. I think the next time we initiate new Brothers, or the next time I read the
Ritual, it will be very special and personal to me.

******
1863 Obituary

What follows is the obituary from the Presbyterian Historical Almanac and Annual
Remembrance of the Church dated 1863. It was written by a Mr. Joseph M. Nelson and is
the only known obituary of Tom Campbell.

CAMPBELL, THOMAS C.—The son of the late Rev. Dr. James R. and Mary Campbell,
was born on board of an American vessel on the Indiana Ocean, March 12, 1836, whilst
his parents were on their way to India as Foreign Missionaries of the Reformed
Presbyterian Church.

In 1848 he came to this country and went to school in Philadelphia, Pa., and thence to
Jefferson College, Canonsburgh, Pa., where he graduated in 1856. He entered the
Western Theological Seminary, where after a full course of study he graduated in 1859.
He was licensed by Ohio Presbytery in 1858, and preached a short time during that
summer at Somerset, Pa.

After finishing his Seminary course he preached at Constantine, Mich., Upper Sandusky,
and also at Sandusky City, Ohio. At this last place he decided to accept the call which
was placed in his hands, and he was ordained by Western Reserve Presbytery in the
Westminster Church, Cleveland, Ohio, in the autumn of 1860; for various reasons he was
not installed; he continued to preach until May, 1861, he then left for the purpose of
supplying the pulpit of the Westminster Church at Cleveland, Ohio, during the absence of
the pastor, Frederick T. Brown, D.D., as Chaplain of Col. Tyier's Regiment, Ohio
Volunteer Infantry.

On the return of Dr. Brown, in February, 1862, he removed to Marion, Ohio, to supply
the pulpit of the church at that place during the absence of its pastor. Rev. H. B. Fry, who
was Chaplain of the 82nd Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry. During this period he was
taken sick, and after an illness of two weeks he died June 8, 1862. His disease was
somewhat obscure but it was doubtless an affection of the brain. His articulation became
indistinct, and for the last week of his sickness it was only at rare intervals that anything
like intelligible conversation could be held with him; his constitution was of an East India
type, delicate and nervous.

During his short pilgrimage as a preacher he had greatly endeared himself to many of
God's people. He was quite popular, owing to the beauty of his style as well as the ease
and gracefulness of his delivery. The congregations visibly increased under his
ministrations, and his earnestness and zeal, sustained as it was by very pleasing and
genial manners in private intercourse, would have made him eminently successful. His
 11

extemporaneous addresses on Wednesday evening lectures and at prayer meetings were

exceedingly interesting, scriptural and spiritual. He was greatly loved and greatly
mourned by the members of the congregation in Marion.

He married Miss Jane Gormley, January, 1860, of Allegheny city (sic), Pa., (a daughter
of James Gormley Esq.,, an Elder of the Reformed Presbyterian Church in that city,) who
survives him. His remains were taken to Allegheny city for interment.

REV. PHILIPH MOWRY of Philadelphia, speaks of him as follows:

"Mr. Campbell was a man of ardent temperament; though small of stature, his well knit
frame and sparkling eye gave evidence not only of an active mind, but also of a physical
constitution, capable of sustaining prolonged mental effort. With an exuberance of
vitality, he was of a restless disposition, quick in his movements, and enthusiastic in all
he undertook. His mind was rather of the imaginative cast. His feelings were strong and
somewhat impulsive.

By all he was confessed to be a man of no ordinary talent; but his reflective faculty was
not always as rapid as his perceptive and creative powers. His impulsiveness, however,
was more the result of youthful fervor, exhaustless and impassioned energy of great
nervous vitality, than a radical defect of judgment. For a judgment, keen and decisive,
was manifest when the first rush of feeling had expended itself. He was of a very social
turn, and his remarkable vivacity made him a cheerful companion. Though somewhat
reserved in general intercourse, to his intimate friends, he was like a child, candid,
trustful, communicative. In whatever circle he mingled, if he did not impress, he was
always regarded with interest. There was something peculiarly animating in his presence;
lively in voice and manner his earnestness was contagious.”

(This document was prepared January 27, 2011)