The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1915-07-04


made and broke his connection with
the Old Second Church VI Boston, be-
ginning as the colleague OF the Rev.
Henry Ware and accepting the sole
charge when Mr.. Ware took a pro-
fessorship at the Cambridge divinity
school. That ivy covered structure
which n graced Copiey Square and
stood vis-a-vis to the old Art Museum.
with It's illustrious line OF pastors.
beginning with john and Cotton
Mather Of witchcraft fame, and con-
tanning no name more illustrious than
Emerson's own. is no more, and a diff
ferert congregation now worships I'M
der the old name indeed. but with
different forms, in another part of the
city. Perhaps nc church In the United
States would better reward one for "A
study Of rs history. Emerson severed
his connection on the ground of his
unwiliingness to administer the Lords
Supper in the prevalent form. Doubt
less too the routine work was calling
to his spirit. for with all his transcen-
dentalism anf his distractions Finer
sen had a great fund of native COM
mon sense. and he writes In his jour
iuAs Nho" va y VIC IL ~ ~
had sign i'm a man to he too conscien-
tious and stick at gnats. The most
desperate s%coundrels have been over
refined. Without accommodation So
cieiy IL impracticabie."
t.merson's two European journeys
furnish the reader with two signal
dlsappointments. In 1882 he sailed
for Malta. February 2. reaching Paris
June 20 and London July 81. Through
out the journey he was restless. ome
what q%uerulous and accessible to
annoyance. He was as lonely In Italy
as al unbefriended stock broker. He
met Lander, Co.eridge. Wordsworth
! and Carlyle inc found them all four
deficient in insight into religious
truth" Nothing could bc more aniz-
ing than this view of Wordsworth.
Coleridge and Carlyle. Nationally he
should have found Wordsworth a
kindred spirit. but apparently no spark
was generated by that contact of flint
and steel. The biographer lndulgently
! sums up this European trip by saying:
Italy could not !mplant or modify
the love of beauty in a mind In whom
the WORSHIP II that element was a.
ready active and mature. France could
not undermine q theology which was
already In articulo mortis or relax a
moral code which had acquired in lis
own school, a combination of elasticity
and firmness quite alien to the self
indulgence of the Seine. At 30 years
the impetus Of his own character wal
too strong to be modified by impacts
4 from u,ifhatf hfs rnai Anht fn E,trDp1
was the ascertainment of its inutility."
However satisfactory this summing
\ up may be to the present author, II
makes the reader free of Emerson's
chief limitation. He was deficient oi,
the aesthetic side. and had a lifelong
deficiency in the historic sense which
, alone gives a man a just feeling for
proportionate values. Emerson was
indeed the high priest of that par
ticular brand Of American democracy
which believes one thing to he as
good as another and discards withou,
study the history Of the upbuilding OF
culture. Many of our national virtues
most OF our national d~elinquencies
and all OF our national impertinences
grow out of this wholesale discarding
OF tradition in art. in religion and in
life. Emerson indeed offers as fine a
picture as one can give OF a mar
hanging on to the top of the ladder
after kicking away all the props.
In 1894 he settled with his mother In
Concord. where he was to live the
rest OF his days. He married Miss
Lydia Jackson Of Plymouth. had four
children, was helpful and assiduous at
the town meeting. the social clrc,e, the
Saturday Club OF Boston. He was wise
imperturbable, self-sufiCient. ruminat.
ing. He wrote at will and lecturet
much. and doubtless with distaste. He
had the ranging mind which made him
a second rate college student, a reluc-
tant and hesitating author and a lee
turer with whom a modern audience
unaccustomed to generalities and alb
stractions, would doubtless a but
little patience. The tales of his in
accessible !mperturbability are too de-
! lightful to omit. When the Rev. Mr.
Ware. in most courteous wise. chal.
lenged him To uphold by argument
some Of his most destructive state
ments in the divinity school address
of 1888 he replies ~humorously and de.
lightfully:
I could not give YOU an accoun. Of my
self II challenged | could not possibl'
give you one Of the arguments" 20,
cruelty hint at, on which any doctrine o
mine stands; for 7 do not know wha
argument are in reference to any ex
preston of a thought. | delight In tellin'
what ! think; but II YOU ask me how
dare say so. or why 1t Is so. | am tn
most helpless OF mortal men. do no
see that either OF these questions admit
Of an answer. So that in the presen
droll posture Of my affairs, when | Sc
myself suddenly raised to the importanc,
Of a hereto, l am very uneasy when
advert to the supposed duties of such
parsonage, who j. to make good his thesi
against all corners. | certainly shall d
no such thing. | shall read what you an
other good men write, as nave alwav
done; glad when YOU speak my thought
and skipping The page that has nothin.
for me. shall go on Just as before. see
Ing whatever ! can and telling what ! sec
His self-confdence was a shield an,
a protection. He believed in himself
He has almost the composure an,
aplomb of the Hebrew Jehovah an,
accounts for himself only by saying
II am hat ] am" He discarded his
toric Christianity in this early address
with al! the decision that Sw.nburn,
applies in before the CrucinN'': We
without d.scomDosurc or violence
But by this Eastern monarchy "
have built. the friend Of man Is mad
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