1868-1873. AET. 65-70.
Lectures on the Natural History of the Intellect.--Publication
of "Society and Solitude." Contents: Society and Solitude.
--Civilization.--Art.--Eloquence.--Domestic Life.--Farming.
--Works and Days.--Books.--Clubs.--Courage.--Success.--Old Age.--Other
Literary Labors.--Visit to California.--Burning of his House, and the
Story of its Rebuilding.--Third Visit to Europe.--His Reception at
Concord on his Return.
During three successive years, 1868, 1869, 1870, Emerson delivered a
series of Lectures at Harvard University on the "Natural History of the
Intellect." These Lectures, as I am told by Dr. Emerson, cost him a
great deal of labor, but I am not aware that they have been collected or
reported. They will be referred to in the course of this chapter, in an
extract from Prof. Thayer's "Western Journey with Mr. Emerson." He is
there reported as saying that he cared very little for metaphysics.
It is very certain that he makes hardly any use of the ordinary terms
employed by metaphysicians. If he does not hold the words "subject and
object" with their adjectives, in the same contempt that Mr. Ruskin
shows for them, he very rarely employs either of these expressions.
Once he ventures on the _not me_, but in the main he uses plain English
handles for the few metaphysical tools he has occasion to employ.
"Society and Solitude" was published in 1870. The first Essay in the
volume bears the same name as the volume itself.
In this first Essay Emerson is very fair to the antagonistic claims
of solitary and social life. He recognizes the organic necessity of
solitude. We are driven "as with whips into the desert." But there is
danger in this seclusion. "Now and then a man exquisitely made can live
alone and must; but coop up most men and you undo them.--Here again, as
so often, Nature delights to put us between extreme antagonisms, and
our safety is in the skill with which we keep the diagonal line.--The
conditions are met, if we keep our independence yet do not lose our
sympathy."
The Essay on "Civilization" is pleasing, putting familiar facts in a
very agreeable way. The framed or stone-house in place of the cave or
the camp, the building of roads, the change from war, hunting,
and pasturage to agriculture, the division of labor, the skilful
combinations of civil government, the diffusion of knowledge through the
press, are well worn subjects which he treats agreeably, if not with
special brilliancy:--
"Right position of woman in the State is another index.--Place the
sexes in right relations of mutual respect, and a severe morality
gives that essential charm to a woman which educates all that
is delicate, poetic, and self-sacrificing; breeds courtesy and
learning, conversation and wit, in her rough mate, so that I have
thought a sufficient measure of civilization is the influence of
good women."
My attention was drawn to one paragraph for a reason which my reader
will readily understand, and I trust look upon good-naturedly:--
"The ship, in its latest complete equipment, is an abridgment and
compend of a nation's arts: the ship steered by compass and chart,
longitude reckoned by lunar observation and by chronometer, driven
by steam; and in wildest sea-mountains, at vast distances from
home,--
"'The pulses of her iron heart
Go beating through the storm.'"
I cannot be wrong, it seems to me, in supposing those two lines to be
an incorrect version of these two from a poem of my own called "The
Steamboat:"
"The beating of her restless heart
Still sounding through the storm."
It is never safe to quote poetry from memory, at least while the writer
lives, for he is ready to "cavil on the ninth part of a hair" where his
verses are concerned. But extreme accuracy was not one of Emerson's
special gifts, and vanity whispers to the misrepresented versifier that
'tis better to be quoted wrong
Than to be quoted not at all.
This Essay of Emerson's is irradiated by a single precept that is worthy
to stand by the side of that which Juvenal says came from heaven. How
could the man in whose thought such a meteoric expression suddenly
announced itself fail to recognize it as divine? It is not strange that
he repeats it on the page next the one where we first see it. Not having
any golden letters to print it in, I will underscore it for italics, and
doubly underscore it in the second extract for small capitals:--
"Now that is the wisdom of a man, in every instance of his labor,
to _hitch his wagon to a star_, and see his chore done by the gods
themselves."--
"'It was a great instruction,' said a saint in Cromwell's war, 'that
the best courages are but beams of the Almighty.' HITCH YOUR WAGON
TO A STAR. Let us not fag in paltry works which serve our pot and
bag alone. Let us not lie and steal. No god will help. We shall find
all their teams going the other way,--Charles's Wain, Great Bear,
Orion, Leo, Hercules: every god will leave us. Work rather for those
interests which the divinities honor and promote,--justice, love,
freedom, knowledge, utility."--
Charles's Wain and the Great Bear, he should have been reminded, are the
same constellation; the _Dipper_ is what our people often call it, and
the country folk all know "the pinters," which guide their eyes to the
North Star.
I find in the Essay on "Art" many of the thoughts with which we are
familiar in Emerson's poem, "The Problem." It will be enough to cite
these passages:--
"We feel in seeing a noble building which rhymes well, as we do in
hearing a perfect song, that it is spiritually organic; that it had
a necessity in nature for being; was one of the possible forms in
the Divine mind, and is now only discovered and executed by the
artist, not arbitrarily composed by him. And so every genuine work
of art has as much reason for being as the earth and the sun.--
--"The Iliad of Homer, the songs of David, the odes of Pindar, the
tragedies of Aeschylus, the Doric temples, the Gothic cathedrals,
the plays of Shakspeare, all and each were made not for sport, but
in grave earnest, in tears and smiles of suffering and loving men.--
--"The Gothic cathedrals were built when the builder and the priest
and the people were overpowered by their faith. Love and fear laid
every stone.--
"Our arts are happy hits. We are like the musician on the lake,
whose melody is sweeter than he knows."
The discourse on "Eloquence" is more systematic, more professorial,
than many of the others. A few brief extracts will give the key to its
general purport:--
"Eloquence must be grounded on the plainest narrative. Afterwards,
it may warm itself until it exhales symbols of every kind and color,
speaks only through the most poetic forms; but, first and last, it
must still be at bottom a biblical statement of fact.--
"He who will train himself to mastery in this science of persuasion
must lay the emphasis of education, not on popular arts, but on
character and insight.--
--"The highest platform of eloquence is the moral sentiment.--
--"Its great masters ... were grave men, who preferred their
integrity to their talent, and esteemed that object for which they
toiled, whether the prosperity of their country, or the laws, or a
reformation, or liberty of speech, or of the press, or letters, or
morals, as above the whole world and themselves also."
"Domestic Life" begins with a picture of childhood so charming that it
sweetens all the good counsel which follows like honey round the rim of
the goblet which holds some tonic draught:--
"Welcome to the parents the puny struggler, strong in
his weakness, his little arms more irresistible than the
soldier's, his lips touched with persuasion which Chatham
and Pericles in manhood had not. His unaffected lamentations
when he lifts up his voice on high, or, more beautiful,
the sobbing child,--the face all liquid grief, as he tries to
swallow his vexation,--soften all hearts to pity, and to mirthful
and clamorous compassion. The small despot asks so little that
all reason and all nature are on his side. His ignorance is more
charming than all knowledge, and his little sins more bewitching
than any virtue. His flesh is angels' flesh, all alive.--All day,
between his three or four sleeps, he coos like a pigeon-house,
sputters and spurs and puts on his faces of importance; and when he
fasts, the little Pharisee fails not to sound his trumpet before
him."
Emerson has favored his audiences and readers with what he knew about
"Farming." Dr. Emerson tells me that this discourse was read as an
address before the "Middlesex Agricultural Society," and printed in the
"Transactions" of that association. He soon found out that the hoe and
the spade were not the tools he was meant to work with, but he had some
general ideas about farming which he expressed very happily:--
"The farmer's office is precise and important, but you must not try
to paint him in rose-color; you cannot make pretty compliments to
fate and gravitation, whose minister he is.--This hard work will
always be done by one kind of man; not by scheming speculators, nor
by soldiers, nor professors, nor readers of Tennyson; but by men
of endurance, deep-chested, long-winded, tough, slow and sure, and
timely."
Emerson's chemistry and physiology are not profound, but they are
correct enough to make a fine richly colored poetical picture in his
imaginative presentation. He tells the commonest facts so as to make
them almost a surprise:--
"By drainage we went down to a subsoil we did not know, and have
found there is a Concord under old Concord, which we are now getting
the best crops from; a Middlesex under Middlesex; and, in fine, that
Massachusetts has a basement story more valuable and that promises
to pay a better rent than all the superstructure."
In "Works and Days" there is much good reading, but I will call
attention to one or two points only, as having a slight special interest
of their own. The first is the boldness of Emerson's assertions and
predictions in matters belonging to science and art. Thus, he speaks of
"the transfusion of the blood,--which, in Paris, it was claimed, enables
a man to change his blood as often as his linen!" And once more,
"We are to have the balloon yet, and the next war will be fought in the
air."
Possibly; but it is perhaps as safe to predict that it will be fought on
wheels; the soldiers on bicycles, the officers on tricycles.
The other point I have marked is that we find in this Essay a prose
version of the fine poem, printed in "May-Day" under the title "Days." I
shall refer to this more particularly hereafter.
It is wronging the Essay on "Books" to make extracts from it. It is all
an extract, taken from years of thought in the lonely study and the
public libraries. If I commit the wrong I have spoken of, it is under
protest against myself. Every word of this Essay deserves careful
reading. But here are a few sentences I have selected for the reader's
consideration:--
"There are books; and it is practicable to read them because they
are so few.--
"I visit occasionally the Cambridge Library, and I can seldom go
there without renewing the conviction that the best of it all is
already within the four walls of my study at home.--
"The three practical rules which I have to offer are, 1. Never read
any book that is not a year old. 2. Never read any but famed books.
3. Never read any but what you like, or, in Shakspeare's phrase,--
"'No profit goes where is no pleasure ta'en;
In brief, Sir, study what you most affect.'"
Emerson has a good deal to say about conversation in his Essay on
"Clubs," but nothing very notable on the special subject of the Essay.
Perhaps his diary would have something of interest with reference to the
"Saturday Club," of which he was a member, which, in fact, formed itself
around him as a nucleus, and which he attended very regularly. But he
was not given to personalities, and among the men of genius and of
talent whom he met there no one was quieter, but none saw and heard and
remembered more. He was hardly what Dr. Johnson would have called a
"clubable" man, yet he enjoyed the meetings in his still way, or he
would never have come from Concord so regularly to attend them. He gives
two good reasons for the existence of a club like that of which I have
been speaking:--
"I need only hint the value of the club for bringing masters in
their several arts to compare and expand their views, to come to
an understanding on these points, and so that their united opinion
shall have its just influence on public questions of education and
politics."
"A principal purpose also is the hospitality of the club, as a means
of receiving a worthy foreigner with mutual advantage."
I do not think "public questions of education and politics" were very
prominent at the social meetings of the "Saturday Club," but "worthy
foreigners," and now and then one not so worthy, added variety to the
meetings of the company, which included a wide range of talents and
callings.
All that Emerson has to say about "Courage" is worth listening to, for
he was a truly brave man in that sphere of action where there are more
cowards than are found in the battle-field. He spoke his convictions
fearlessly; he carried the spear of Ithuriel, but he wore no breastplate
save that which protects him
"Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill."
He mentions three qualities as attracting the wonder and reverence of
mankind: 1. Disinterestedness; 2. Practical Power; 3. Courage. "I need
not show how much it is esteemed, for the people give it the first rank.
They forgive everything to it. And any man who puts his life in peril in
a cause which is esteemed becomes the darling of all men."--There are
good and inspiriting lessons for young and old in this Essay or Lecture,
which closes with the spirited ballad of "George Nidiver," written "by a
lady to whom all the particulars of the fact are exactly known."
Men will read any essay or listen to any lecture which has for its
subject, like the one now before me, "Success." Emerson complains of the
same things in America which Carlyle groaned over in England:--
"We countenance each other in this life of show, puffing
advertisement, and manufacture of public opinion; and excellence is
lost sight of in the hunger for sudden performance and praise.--
"Now, though I am by no means sure that the reader will assent to
all my propositions, yet I think we shall agree in my first rule for
success,--that we shall drop the brag and the advertisement and take
Michael Angelo's course, 'to confide in one's self and be something
of worth and value.'"
Reading about "Success" is after all very much like reading in old books
of alchemy. "How not to do it," is the lesson of all the books and
treatises. Geber and Albertus Magnus, Roger Bacon and Raymond Lully, and
the whole crew of "pauperes alcumistae," all give the most elaborate
directions showing their student how to fail in transmuting Saturn into
Luna and Sol and making a billionaire of himself. "Success" in its
vulgar sense,--the gaining of money and position,--is not to be reached
by following the rules of an instructor. Our "self-made men," who govern
the country by their wealth and influence, have found their place by
adapting themselves to the particular circumstances in which they were
placed, and not by studying the broad maxims of "Poor Richard," or any
other moralist or economist.--For such as these is meant the cheap
cynical saying quoted by Emerson, "_Rien ne réussit mieux que le
succès_."
But this is not the aim and end of Emerson's teaching:--
"I fear the popular notion of success stands in direct opposition
in all points to the real and wholesome success. One adores public
opinion, the other private opinion; one fame, the other desert; one
feats, the other humility; one lucre, the other love; one monopoly,
and the other hospitality of mind."
And so, though there is no alchemy in this Lecture, it is profitable
reading, assigning its true value to the sterling gold of character,
the gaining of which is true success, as against the brazen idol of the
market-place.
The Essay on "Old Age" has a special value from its containing two
personal reminiscences: one of the venerable Josiah Quincy, a brief
mention; the other the detailed record of a visit in the year 1825,
Emerson being then twenty-two years old, to ex-President John Adams,
soon after the election of his son to the Presidency. It is enough to
allude to these, which every reader will naturally turn to first of all.
But many thoughts worth gathering are dropped along these pages. He
recounts the benefits of age; the perilous capes and shoals it has
weathered; the fact that a success more or less signifies little, so
that the old man may go below his own mark with impunity; the feeling
that he has found expression,--that his condition, in particular and in
general, allows the utterance of his mind; the pleasure of completing
his secular affairs, leaving all in the best posture for the future:--
"When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well
spare, muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and works
that belong to these. But the central wisdom which was old in
infancy is young in fourscore years, and dropping off obstructions,
leaves in happy subjects the mind purified and wise. I have heard
that whoever loves is in no condition old. I have heard that
whenever the name of man is spoken, the doctrine of immortality is
announced; it cleaves to his constitution. The mode of it baffles
our wit, and no whisper comes to us from the other side. But the
inference from the working of intellect, hiving knowledge, hiving
skill,--at the end of life just ready to be born,--affirms the
inspirations of affection and of the moral sentiment."
Other literary labors of Emerson during this period were the
Introduction to "Plutarch's Morals" in 1870, and a Preface to William
Ellery Channing's Poem, "The Wanderer," in 1871. He made a speech at
Howard University, Washington, in 1872.
In the year 1871 Emerson made a visit to California with a very pleasant
company, concerning which Mr. John M. Forbes, one of whose sons married
Emerson's daughter Edith, writes to me as follows. Professor James B.
Thayer, to whom he refers, has more recently written and published an
account of this trip, from which some extracts will follow Mr. Forbes's
letter:--
BOSTON, February 6, 1884.
MY DEAR DR.,--What little I can give will be of a very rambling
character.
One of the first memories of Emerson which comes up is my meeting
him on the steamboat at returning from Detroit East. I persuaded him
to stop over at Niagara, which he had never seen. We took a carriage
and drove around the circuit. It was in early summer, perhaps in
1848 or 1849. When we came to Table Rock on the British side, our
driver took us down on the outer part of the rock in the carriage.
We passed on by rail, and the next day's papers brought us the
telegraphic news that Table Rock had fallen over; perhaps we were
among the last persons on it!
About 1871 I made up a party for California, including Mr. Emerson,
his daughter Edith, and a number of gay young people. We drove with
B----, the famous Vermont coachman, up to the Geysers, and then made
the journey to the Yosemite Valley by wagon and on horseback. I wish
I could give you more than a mere outline picture of the sage at
this time. With the thermometer at 100 degrees he would sometimes
drive with the buffalo robes drawn up over his knees, apparently
indifferent to the weather, gazing on the new and grand scenes
of mountain and valley through which we journeyed. I especially
remember once, when riding down the steep side of a mountain, his
reins hanging loose, the bit entirely out of the horse's mouth,
without his being aware that this was an unusual method of riding
Pegasus, so fixed was his gaze into space, and so unconscious was
he, at the moment, of his surroundings.
In San Francisco he visited with us the dens of the opium smokers,
in damp cellars, with rows of shelves around, on which were
deposited the stupefied Mongolians; perhaps the lowest haunts of
humanity to be found in the world. The contrast between them and
the serene eye and undisturbed brow of the sage was a sight for all
beholders.
When we reached Salt Lake City on our way home he made a point of
calling on Brigham Young, then at the summit of his power. The
Prophet, or whatever he was called, was a burly, bull-necked man of
hard sense, really leading a great industrial army. He did not seem
to appreciate who his visitor was, at any rate gave no sign of so
doing, and the chief interest of the scene was the wide contrast
between these leaders of spiritual and of material forces.
I regret not having kept any notes of what was said on this and
other occasions, but if by chance you could get hold of Professor
J.B. Thayer, who was one of our party, he could no doubt give you
some notes that would be valuable.
Perhaps the latest picture that remains in my mind of our friend is
his wandering along the beaches and under the trees at Naushon, no
doubt carrying home large stealings from my domain there, which lost
none of their value from being transferred to his pages. Next to
his private readings which he gave us there, the most notable
recollection is that of his intense amusement at some comical songs
which our young people used to sing, developing a sense of humor
which a superficial observer would hardly have discovered, but which
you and I know he possessed in a marked degree.
Yours always,
J.M. FORBES.
Professor James B. Thayer's little book, "A Western Journey with Mr.
Emerson," is a very entertaining account of the same trip concerning
which Mr. Forbes wrote the letter just given. Professor Thayer kindly
read many of his notes to me before his account was published, and
allows me to make such use of the book as I see fit. Such liberty must
not be abused, and I will content myself with a few passages in which
Emerson has a part. No extract will interest the reader more than the
following:--
"'How _can_ Mr. Emerson,' said one of the younger members of the
party to me that day, 'be so agreeable, all the time, without
getting tired!' It was the _naive_ expression of what we all had
felt. There was never a more agreeable travelling companion; he was
always accessible, cheerful, sympathetic, considerate, tolerant; and
there was always that same respectful interest in those with whom
he talked, even the humblest, which raised them in their own
estimation. One thing particularly impressed me,--the sense that he
seemed to have of a certain great amplitude of time and leisure. It
was the behavior of one who really _believed_ in an immortal life,
and had adjusted his conduct accordingly; so that, beautiful and
grand as the natural objects were, among which our journey lay, they
were matched by the sweet elevation of character, and the spiritual
charm of our gracious friend. Years afterwards, on that memorable
day of his funeral at Concord, I found that a sentence from his own
Essay on Immortality haunted my mind, and kept repeating itself
all the day long; it seemed to point to the sources of his power:
'Meantime the true disciples saw through the letter the doctrine of
eternity, which dissolved the poor corpse, and Nature also, and gave
grandeur to the passing hour.'"
This extract will be appropriately followed by another alluding to the
same subject.
"The next evening, Sunday, the twenty-third, Mr. Emerson read his
address on 'Immortality,' at Dr. Stebbins's church. It was the first
time that he had spoken on the Western coast; never did he speak
better. It was, in the main, the same noble Essay that has since
been printed.
"At breakfast the next morning we had the newspaper, the 'Alta
California.' It gave a meagre outline of the address, but praised it
warmly, and closed with the following observations: 'All left the
church feeling that an elegant tribute had been paid to the creative
genius of the Great First Cause, and that a masterly use of the
English language had contributed to that end.'"
The story used to be told that after the Reverend Horace Holley had
delivered a prayer on some public occasion, Major Ben. Russell, of ruddy
face and ruffled shirt memory, Editor of "The Columbian Centinel,"
spoke of it in his paper the next day as "the most eloquent prayer ever
addressed to a Boston audience."
The "Alta California's" "elegant tribute" is not quite up to this
rhetorical altitude.
"'The minister,' said he, 'is in no danger of losing his position;
he represents the moral sense and the humanities.' He spoke of his
own reasons for leaving the pulpit, and added that 'some one had
lately come to him whose conscience troubled him about retaining the
name of Christian; he had replied that he himself had no difficulty
about it. When he was called a Platonist, or a Christian, or a
Republican, he welcomed it. It did not bind him to what he did
not like. What is the use of going about and setting up a flag of
negation?'"
"I made bold to ask him what he had in mind in naming his recent
course of lectures at Cambridge, 'The Natural History of the
Intellect.' This opened a very interesting conversation; but, alas!
I could recall but little of it,--little more than the mere hintings
of what he said. He cared very little for metaphysics. But he
thought that as a man grows he observes certain facts about his own
mind,--about memory, for example. These he had set down from time
to time. As for making any methodical history, he did not undertake
it."
Emerson met Brigham Young at Salt Lake City, as has been mentioned, but
neither seems to have made much impression upon the other. Emerson spoke
of the Mormons. Some one had said, "They impress the common people,
through their imagination, by Bible-names and imagery." "Yes," he said,
"it is an after-clap of Puritanism. But one would think that after this
Father Abraham could go no further."
The charm of Boswell's Life of Johnson is that it not merely records
his admirable conversation, but also gives us many of those lesser
peculiarities which are as necessary to a true biography as lights and
shades to a portrait on canvas. We are much obliged to Professor Thayer
therefore for the two following pleasant recollections which he has been
good-natured enough to preserve for us, and with which we will take
leave of his agreeable little volume:--
"At breakfast we had, among other things, pie. This article at
breakfast was one of Mr. Emerson's weaknesses. A pie stood before
him now. He offered to help somebody from it, who declined; and
then one or two others, who also declined; and then Mr.----; he too
declined. 'But Mr.----!' Mr. Emerson remonstrated, with humorous
emphasis, thrusting the knife under a piece of the pie, and putting
the entire weight of his character into his manner,--'but Mr.----,
_what is pie for_?'"
A near friend of mine, a lady, was once in the cars with Emerson, and
when they stopped for the refreshment of the passengers he was very
desirous of procuring something at the station for her solace. Presently
he advanced upon her with a cup of tea in one hand and a wedge of pie in
the other,--such a wedge! She could hardly have been more dismayed
if one of Caesar's _cunei_, or wedges of soldiers, had made a charge
against her.
Yet let me say here that pie, often foolishly abused, is a good
creature, at the right time and in angles of thirty or forty degrees. In
semicircles and quadrants it may sometimes prove too much for delicate
stomachs. But here was Emerson, a hopelessly confirmed pie-eater, never,
so far as I remember, complaining of dyspepsia; and there, on the other
side, was Carlyle, feeding largely on wholesome oatmeal, groaning with
indigestion all his days, and living with half his self-consciousness
habitually centred beneath his diaphragm.
Like his friend Carlyle and like Tennyson, Emerson had a liking for a
whiff of tobacco-smoke:--
"When alone," he said, "he rarely cared to finish a whole cigar. But
in company it was singular to see how different it was. To one who
found it difficult to meet people, as he did, the effect of a cigar
was agreeable; one who is smoking may be as silent as he likes, and
yet be good company. And so Hawthorne used to say that he found it.
On this journey Mr. Emerson generally smoked a single cigar after
our mid-day dinner, or after tea, and occasionally after both. This
was multiplying, several times over, anything that was usual with
him at home."
Professor Thayer adds in a note:--
"Like Milton, Mr. Emerson 'was extraordinary temperate in his Diet,'
and he used even less tobacco. Milton's quiet day seems to have
closed regularly with a pipe; he 'supped,' we are told, 'upon ...
some light thing; and after a pipe of tobacco and a glass of water
went to bed.'"
As Emerson's name has been connected with that of Milton in its nobler
aspects, it can do no harm to contemplate him, like Milton, indulging in
this semi-philosophical luxury.
One morning in July, 1872, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson woke to find their room
filled with smoke and fire coming through the floor of a closet in the
room over them. The alarm was given, and the neighbors gathered and did
their best to put out the flames, but the upper part of the house was
destroyed, and with it were burned many papers of value to Emerson,
including his father's sermons. Emerson got wet and chilled, and it
seems too probable that the shock hastened that gradual loss of memory
which came over his declining years.
His kind neighbors did all they could to save his property and relieve
his temporary needs. A study was made ready for him in the old Court
House, and the "Old Manse," which had sheltered his grandfather, and
others nearest to him, received him once more as its tenant.
On the 15th of October he spoke at a dinner given in New York in honor
of James Anthony Froude, the historian, and in the course of this same
month he set out on his third visit to Europe, accompanied by his
daughter Ellen. We have little to record of this visit, which was
suggested as a relief and recreation while his home was being refitted
for him. He went to Egypt, but so far as I have learned the Sphinx had
no message for him, and in the state of mind in which he found himself
upon the mysterious and dream-compelling Nile it may be suspected that
the landscape with its palms and pyramids was an unreal vision,--that,
as to his Humble-bee,
"All was picture as he passed."
But while he was voyaging his friends had not forgotten him. The
sympathy with him in his misfortune was general and profound. It did not
confine itself to expressions of feeling, but a spontaneous movement
organized itself almost without effort. If any such had been needed, the
attached friend whose name is appended to the Address to the Subscribers
to the Fund for rebuilding Mr. Emerson's house would have been as
energetic in this new cause as he had been in the matter of procuring
the reprint of "Sartor Resartus." I have his kind permission to publish
the whole correspondence relating to the friendly project so happily
carried out.
_To the Subscribers to the Fund for the Rebuilding of Mr. Emerson's
House, after the Fire of July_ 24, 1872:
The death of Mr. Emerson has removed any objection which may have
before existed to the printing of the following correspondence. I
have now caused this to be done, that each subscriber may have the
satisfaction of possessing a copy of the touching and affectionate
letters in which he expressed his delight in this, to him, most
unexpected demonstration of personal regard and attachment, in the
offer to restore for him his ruined home.
No enterprise of the kind was ever more fortunate and successful in
its purpose and in its results. The prompt and cordial response to
the proposed subscription was most gratifying. No contribution was
solicited from any one. The simple suggestion to a few friends of
Mr. Emerson that an opportunity was now offered to be of service
to him was all that was needed. From the first day on which it was
made, the day after the fire, letters began to come in, with cheques
for large and small amounts, so that in less than three weeks I
was enabled to send to Judge Hoar the sum named in his letter as
received by him on the 13th of August, and presented by him to Mr.
Emerson the next morning, at the Old Manse, with fitting words.
Other subscriptions were afterwards received, increasing the amount
on my book to eleven thousand six hundred and twenty dollars. A part
of this was handed directly to the builder at Concord. The balance
was sent to Mr. Emerson October 7, and acknowledged by him in his
letter of October 8, 1872.
All the friends of Mr. Emerson who knew of the plan which was
proposed to rebuild his house, seemed to feel that it was a
privilege to be allowed to express in this way the love and
veneration with which he was regarded, and the deep debt of
gratitude which they owed to him, and there is no doubt that a much
larger amount would have been readily and gladly offered, if it had
been required, for the object in view.
Those who have had the happiness to join in this friendly
"conspiracy" may well take pleasure in the thought that what they
have done has had the effect to lighten the load of care and anxiety
which the calamity of the fire brought with it to Mr. Emerson, and
thus perhaps to prolong for some precious years the serene and noble
life that was so dear to all of us.
My thanks are due to the friends who have made me the bearer of this
message of good-will.
LE BARON RUSSELL.
BOSTON, May 8, 1882.
BOSTON, August 13, 1872.
DEAR MR. EMERSON:
It seems to have been the spontaneous desire of your friends, on
hearing of the burning of your house, to be allowed the pleasure of
rebuilding it.
A few of them have united for this object, and now request your
acceptance of the amount which I have to-day deposited to your order
at the Concord Bank, through the kindness of our friend, Judge Hoar.
They trust that you will receive it as an expression of sincere
regard and affection from friends, who will, one and all, esteem it
a great privilege to be permitted to assist in the restoration of
your home.
And if, in their eagerness to participate in so grateful a work,
they may have exceeded the estimate of your architect as to what
is required for that purpose, they beg that you will devote the
remainder to such other objects as may be most convenient to you.
Very sincerely yours,
LE BARON RUSSELL.
CONCORD, August 14, 1872.
DR. LE B. RUSSELL:
_Dear Sir_,--I received your letters, with the check for ten
thousand dollars inclosed, from Mr. Barrett last evening. This
morning I deposited it to Mr. Emerson's credit in the Concord
National Bank, and took a bank book for him, with his little balance
entered at the top, and this following, and carried it to him with
your letter. I told him, by way of prelude, that some of his friends
had made him treasurer of an association who wished him to go to
England and examine Warwick Castle and other noted houses that
had been recently injured by fire, in order to get the best ideas
possible for restoration, and then to apply them to a house which
the association was formed to restore in this neighborhood.
When he understood the thing and had read your letter, he seemed
very deeply moved. He said that he had been allowed so far in life
to stand on his own feet, and that he hardly knew what to say,--that
the kindness of his friends was very great. I said what I thought
was best in reply, and told him that this was the spontaneous act of
friends, who wished the privilege of expressing in this way their
respect and affection, and was done only by those who thought it a
privilege to do so. I mentioned Hillard as you desired, and also
Mrs. Tappan, who, it seems, had written to him and offered any
assistance he might need, to the extent of five thousand dollars,
personally.
I think it is all right, but he said he must see the list of
contributors, and would then say what he had to say about it. He
told me that Mr. F.C. Lowell, who was his classmate and old friend,
Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Gurney, and a few other friends, had already sent
him five thousand dollars, which he seemed to think was as much as
he could bear. This makes the whole a very gratifying result, and
perhaps explains the absence of some names on your book.
I am glad that Mr. Emerson, who is feeble and ill, can learn what a
debt of obligation his friends feel to him, and thank you heartily
for what you have done about it. Very truly yours,
E.R. HOAR.
CONCORD, August 16, 1872.
MY DEAR LE BARON:
I have wondered and melted over your letter and its accompaniments
till it is high time that I should reply to it, if I can. My
misfortunes, as I have lived along so far in this world, have been
so few that I have never needed to ask direct aid of the host of
good men and women who have cheered my life, though many a gift has
come to me. And this late calamity, however rude and devastating,
soon began to look more wonderful in its salvages than in its ruins,
so that I can hardly feel any right to this munificent endowment
with which you, and my other friends through you, have astonished
me. But I cannot read your letter or think of its message without
delight, that my companions and friends bear me so noble a
good-will, nor without some new aspirations in the old heart toward
a better deserving. Judge Hoar has, up to this time, withheld from
me the names of my benefactors, but you may be sure that I shall not
rest till I have learned them, every one, to repeat to myself at
night and at morning.
Your affectionate friend and debtor,
R.W. EMERSON.
DR. LE BARON RUSSELL
CONCORD, October 8, 1872.
MY DEAR DOCTOR LE BARON:
I received last night your two notes, and the cheque, enclosed in
one of them, for one thousand and twenty dollars.
Are my friends bent on killing me with kindness? No, you will say,
but to make me live longer. I thought myself sufficiently loaded
with benefits already, and you add more and more. It appears that
you all will rebuild my house and rejuvenate me by sending me in my
old days abroad on a young man's excursion.
I am a lover of men, but this recent wonderful experience of their
tenderness surprises and occupies my thoughts day by day. Now that
I have all or almost all the names of the men and women who have
conspired in this kindness to me (some of whom I have never
personally known), I please myself with the thought of meeting each
and asking, Why have we not met before? Why have you not told me
that we thought alike? Life is not so long, nor sympathy of thought
so common, that we can spare the society of those with whom we best
agree. Well, 'tis probably my own fault by sticking ever to my
solitude. Perhaps it is not too late to learn of these friends a
better lesson.
Thank them for me whenever you meet them, and say to them that I am
not wood or stone, if I have not yet trusted myself so far as to go
to each one of them directly.
My wife insists that I shall also send her acknowledgments to them
and you.
Yours and theirs affectionately,
R.W. EMERSON.
DR. LE BARON KUSSELL.
The following are the names of the subscribers to the fund for
rebuilding Mr. Emerson's house:--
Mrs. Anne S. Hooper.
Miss Alice S. Hooper.
Mrs. Caroline Tappan.
Miss Ellen S. Tappan.
Miss Mary A. Tappan.
Mr. T.G. Appleton.
Mrs. Henry Edwards.
Miss Susan E. Dorr.
Misses Wigglesworth.
Mr. Edward Wigglesworth.
Mr. J. Elliot Cabot.
Mrs. Sarah S. Russell.
Friends in New York and Philadelphia, through Mr. Williams.
Mr. William Whiting.
Mr. Frederick Beck.
Mr. H.P. Kidder.
Mrs. Abel Adams.
Mrs. George Faulkner.
Hon. E.R. Hoar.
Mr. James B. Thayer.
Mr. John M. Forbes.
Mr. James H. Beal.
Mrs. Anna C. Lodge.
Mr. T. Jefferson Coolidge.
Mr. H.H. Hunnewell.
Mrs. S. Cabot.
Mr. James A. Dupee.
Mrs. Anna C. Lowell.
Mrs. M.F. Sayles.
Miss Helen L. Appleton.
J.R. Osgood & Co.
Mr. Richard Soule.
Mr. Francis Geo. Shaw.
Dr. R.W. Hooper.
Mr. William P. Mason.
Mr. William Gray.
Mr. Sam'l G. Ward.
Mr. J.I. Bowditch.
Mr. Geo. C. Ward.
Mrs. Luicia J. Briggs.
Mr. John E. Williams.
Dr. Le Baron Russell.
In May, 1873, Emerson returned to Concord. His friends and
fellow-citizens received him with every token of affection and
reverence. A set of signals was arranged to announce his arrival.
Carriages were in readiness for him and his family, a band greeted him
with music, and passing under a triumphal arch, he was driven to his
renewed old home amidst the welcomes and the blessings of his loving and
admiring friends and neighbors.