England; an enthusiasm, a wave of sentiment, a breath of mind that
caught up such as were prepared to receive it, elated them, transported
them, and passed on,--no man knowing whither it went. Its influence on
thought and life was immediate and powerful. Religion felt it,
literature, laws, institutions. To the social agitations of forty years
ago it was invaluable as an inspiration. The various reforms owed
everything to it. New England character received from it an impetus that
never will be spent. It made young men see visions and old men dream
dreams. There were mounts of Transfiguration in those days, upon which
multitudes thought they communed visibly with lawgivers and prophets.
They could not stay there always, but the memory will never cease to be
glorious. Transcendentalism as a special phase of thought and feeling
was of necessity transient--having done its work it terminated its
existence. But it did its work, and its work was glorious. Even its
failures were necessary as showing what could not be accomplished, and
its extravagances as defining the boundaries of wise experiment. Its
successes amply redeemed them all, and would have redeemed them had they
been more glaring and grotesque. Had it bequeathed nothing more than the
literature that sprung from it, and the lives of the men and women who
had their intellectual roots in it, it would have conferred a lasting
benefit on America.
XV.
LITERATURE.
A few words on the literary fruits of Transcendentalism will fitly close
this history. To gather them all would be exceedingly difficult, but
that is not necessary, and will not be required. The chief results have
already been indicated. The indirect influence may be left unestimated
in detail. Transcendentalism has more than justified itself in
literature. The ten volumes of Emerson's writings, including the two
volumes of poetry, are a literature by themselves; a classic literature
that loses no charm by age, and which years prepare new multitudes of
readers to enjoy.
The writings of Theodore Parker contain much that entitles them to a
permanent place in letters. Could they be sifted, compressed, strained,
the incidental and personal portion discarded, and the human alone
preserved, the remainder would interest, for many years yet, a numerous
class of men. In their present condition they are too diffuse, as well
as too voluminous and miscellaneous to be manageable. The sermon style
is unsuited to literature, and Parker's sermon style was especially so,
from its excessive redundancy. He paid little heed to the literary laws
in his compositions, which were all designed for immediate effect.
Aside from the fatal injury that the process must do to the intellectual
harmony of the work, there is an objection to abbreviating and
abstracting when an author does not perform the task for himself, for no
other is credited with ability or judgment to do it for him. In Parker's
case the difficulty would be more than commonly great, for the reason
that it is not a question of omitting volumes, or even chapters, but of
straining the contents of pages,--"boiling down" masses of material,
till the spiritual residue alone is left. There is no likelihood that
such a task will ever be performed, and therefore his writings must be
placed in the rank of occasional literature, valuable for many days, but
not precious for generations.
Brownson's writings were astonishingly able, particularly his
discussions in the Boston "Quarterly Review;" but their interest ceased
with their occasion. His philosophical pieces have no value. They served
polemically an incidental purpose, but having no merit of idea or
construction, they perished.
The papers of Mr. Alcott in "Tablets" and "Concord Days," are thoughtful
and quaint, written with a lucid simplicity that will always possess a
charm for a small class of people; but they have not the breadth of
humanity that commends writings to the general acceptance; nor have they
the raciness that makes books of their class spicy and aromatic to the
literary epicures who never tire of Selden or Sir Thomas Browne.
The writings of Margaret Fuller possess a lasting value, and will
continue to be read for their wit and wisdom, when those of her more
ambitious companions are forgotten. For she treated ever-recurring
themes in a living way--vigorous and original, but human. Her taste was
educated by study of the Greek classics, and she had the appreciation of
form that belongs to the literary order of mind. Her writings are not
for those who read as they run, but for those who read for instruction
and suggestion. As the number of such increases, it is not unreasonable
to expect an increase in her audience. With her, thinking and talking
were serious matters. She discussed nothing in a spirit of frivolity;
her thoughts came from a penetrating, and not from a merely acute mind;
the trains of reflection that she started are still in motion, from the
momentum she gave, and the goal she aimed at is not yet discerned by
professed disciples of her own ideas.
The "Dial" is a treasury of literary wealth. There are pieces in it of
prose and verse that should not and will not be lost. The character for
oddity and extravagance which Transcendentalism bore in its day, and has
borne on the strength of tradition ever since, would have to be borne no
longer, if the contents of that remarkable magazine could be submitted
to the calmer judgment of to-day. Not that the sixteen rich numbers
contain a great deal that would be pleasing to the hasty mental habit of
this generation, but to the lovers of earnest thinking and eloquent
writing they have the flavor of a choice intellectual vintage. It is the
misfortune of periodical literature to be ephemeral. The magazine sows,
but does not harvest. It brings thoughts suddenly to the light, but
buries them in season for the next issue, which must have its turn to
live. Volumes that are compiled from magazines have lost their bloom.
The chapters have already discharged their virtue, and spent their
perfume on the air; the smell of the "old numbers" clings to the pages,
which are not of to-day, but of the day before yesterday. We call for
living mind, and fancy that butterflies, because we see them fluttering
in the garden, are more alive than the phoenix that has risen unscathed
from the ashes of consuming fires.
The thoughts of William Henry Channing, though keen, brilliant, of great
potency in their time, and admirable in expression, were addressed to
the exigencies of the hour, and absorbed by them. Such as were committed
to paper in the "Harbinger," the "Spirit of the Age," and other
periodicals, will never be heard of again; and such as were printed in
books passed from memory with the themes he dealt with. His biographical
works deserve a place with the prominent contributions of that
department.
The poetry of William Ellery Channing has a recognized place in American
literature, though much of it has disappeared. Dana's "Household Book of
Poetry" contains a single piece of his on "Death," that is characterized
by a depth of sentiment and a richness of expression, which his more
distinguished contemporary, Mr. Bryant, does not surpass. Mr. Emerson's
"Parnassus" contains eight, the last of which, entitled "A Poet's Hope,"
closes with the wonderful line--
"If my bark sink, 'tis to another sea."
Of Cranch's poems, several have been adopted by collectors,--notably the
lines--
"Thought is deeper than all speech--
Feeling deeper than all thought;
Soul to soul can never teach
What unto itself was taught."
Weiss, Wasson, and Higginson are true artists in letters. The essays of
the last named of the three are the best known, partly by reason of
their greater popularity of theme; but Mr. Wasson's discussions on
ethical and philosophical subjects are distinguished by their luminous
quality. Except for the vein of unhopefulness--partly due to ill
health--that pervades them, the chill communicated by the regions he
sails by, three or four of them would, without hesitation, be classed
among the gems of speculative literature. The best work of Weiss, his
lectures on the Greek Ideas for example, stands apart by itself, perhaps
unrivalled as an attempt to unveil the glory of the ancient mythology.
The interpretation of religious symbols is his province, where, by the
power of "sympathetic perception,"--to use Mr. Wasson's fine phrase--he
penetrates the secret of mysteries, and brings the soul of dark enigmas
to the light; and his beauty of expression more than restores to the
imagination the splendors which the unpoetic interpreter reduces to
meretricious fancy.
The influence of Transcendentalism on pulpit literature--if there be
such a thing--has probably been sufficiently indicated; but the
privilege of printing a sermon of Mr. Emerson's--the only one ever
published, the famous one, that was the occasion of his leaving the
ministry and adopting the profession of literature--affords opportunity
for a special illustration. The sermon--which is interesting in itself,
from the subject, the occasion that called it forth, the insight it
gives into Mr. Emerson's mind and character--is interesting as an
example of the method and spirit which Transcendentalism introduced into
discussions that are usually dry and often angry.
The Kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and
peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.--ROMANS XIV. 17.
In the history of the Church no subject has been more fruitful of
controversy than the Lord's Supper. There never has been any unanimity
in the understanding of its nature, nor any uniformity in the mode of
celebrating it. Without considering the frivolous questions which have
been lately debated as to the posture in which men should partake of it;
whether mixed or unmixed wine should be served; whether leavened or
unleavened bread should be broken; the questions have been settled
differently in every church, who should be admitted to the feast, and
how often it should be prepared. In the Catholic Church, infants were at
one time permitted and then forbidden to partake; and, since the ninth
century, the laity receive the bread only, the cup being reserved to the
priesthood. So, as to the time of the solemnity. In the fourth Lateran
Council, it was decreed that any believer should communicate at least
once in a year--at Easter. Afterwards it was determined that this
Sacrament should be received three times in the year--at Easter,
Whitsuntide, and Christmas. But more important controversies have arisen
respecting its nature. The famous question of the Real Presence was the
main controversy between the Church of England and the Church of Rome.
The doctrine of the Consubstantiation taught by Luther was denied by
Calvin. In the Church of England, Archbishops Laud and Wake maintained
that the elements were an Eucharist or sacrifice of Thanksgiving to God;
Cudworth and Warburton, that this was not a sacrifice, but a sacrificial
feast; and Bishop Hoadley, that it was neither a sacrifice nor a feast
after sacrifice, but a simple commemoration. And finally, it is now near
two hundred years since the Society of Quakers denied the authority of
the rite altogether, and gave good reasons for disusing it.
I allude to these facts only to show that, so far from the supper being
a tradition in which men are fully agreed, there has always been the
widest room for difference of opinion upon this particular.
Having recently given particular attention to this subject, I was led to
the conclusion that Jesus did not intend to establish an institution for
perpetual observance when he ate the Passover with his disciples; and,
further, to the opinion, that it is not expedient to celebrate it as we
do. I shall now endeavor to state distinctly my reasons for these two
opinions.
I. The authority of the rite.
An account of the last supper of Christ with his disciples is given by
the four Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
In St. Matthew's Gospel (Matt. XXVI. 26-30) are recorded the words of
Jesus in giving bread and wine on that occasion to his disciples, but
no expression occurs intimating that this feast was hereafter to be
commemorated.
In St. Mark (Mark XIV. 23) the same words are recorded, and still with
no intimation that the occasion was to be remembered.
St. Luke (Luke XXII. 15), after relating the breaking of the bread, has
these words: This do in remembrance of me.
In St. John, although other occurrences of the same evening are related,
this whole transaction is passed over without notice.
Now observe the facts. Two of the Evangelists, namely, Matthew and John,
were of the twelve disciples, and were present on that occasion. Neither
of them drops the slightest intimation of any intention on the part of
Jesus to set up anything permanent. John, especially, the beloved
disciple, who has recorded with minuteness the conversation and the
transactions of that memorable evening, has quite omitted such a notice.
Neither does it appear to have come to the knowledge of Mark who, though
not an eye-witness, relates the other facts. This material fact, that
the occasion was to be remembered, is found in Luke alone, who was not
present. There is no reason, however, that we know, for rejecting the
account of Luke. I doubt not, the expression was used by Jesus. I shall
presently consider its meaning. I have only brought these accounts
together, that you may judge whether it is likely that a solemn
institution, to be continued to the end of time by all mankind, as they
should come, nation after nation, within the influence of the Christian
religion, would have been established in this slight manner in a manner
so slight, that the intention of commemorating it should not appear,
from their narrative, to have caught the ear or dwelt in the mind of the
only two among the twelve who wrote down what happened.
Still we must suppose that the expression, "_This do in remembrance of
me_," had come to the ear of Luke from some disciple who was present.
What did it really signify? It is a prophetic and an affectionate
expression. Jesus is a Jew, sitting with his countrymen, celebrating
their national feast. He thinks of his own impending death, and wishes
the minds of his disciples to be prepared for it. "When hereafter," he
says to them, "you shall keep the Passover, it will have an altered
aspect to your eyes. It is now a historical covenant of God with the
Jewish nation. Hereafter, it will remind you of a new covenant sealed
with my blood. In years to come, as long as your people shall come up to
Jerusalem to keep this feast, the connection which has subsisted between
us will give a new meaning in your eyes to the national festival, as the
anniversary of my death." I see natural feeling and beauty in the use of
such language from Jesus, a friend to his friends; I can readily imagine
that he was willing and desirous, when his disciples met, his memory
should hallow their intercourse; but I cannot bring myself to believe
that in the use of such an expression he looked beyond the living
generation, beyond the abolition of the festival he was celebrating,
and the scattering of the nation, and meant to impose a memorial feast
upon the whole world.
Without presuming to fix precisely the purpose in the mind of Jesus, you
will see that many opinions may be entertained of his intention, all
consistent with the opinion that he did not design a perpetual
ordinance. He may have foreseen that his disciples would meet to
remember him, and that with good effect. It may have crossed his mind
that this would be easily continued a hundred or a thousand years--as
men more easily transmit a form than a virtue--and yet have been
altogether out of his purpose to fasten it upon men in all times and all
countries.
But though the words, _Do this in remembrance of me_, do not occur in
Matthew, Mark, or John, and although it should be granted us that, taken
alone, they do not necessarily import so much as is usually thought, yet
many persons are apt to imagine that the very striking and personal
manner in which this eating and drinking is described, indicates a
striking and formal purpose to found a festival. And I admit that this
impression might probably be left upon the mind of one who read only the
passages under consideration in the New Testament. But this impression
is removed by reading any narrative of the mode in which the ancient or
the modern Jews have kept the Passover. It is then perceived that the
leading circumstances in the Gospels are only a faithful account of that
ceremony. Jesus did not celebrate the Passover, and afterwards the
Supper, but the Supper _was_ the Passover. He did with his disciples
exactly what every master of a family in Jerusalem was doing at the same
hour with his household. It appears that the Jews ate the lamb and the
unleavened bread, and drank wine after a prescribed manner. It was the
custom for the master of the feast to break the bread and to bless it,
using this formula, which the Talmudists have preserved to us, "Blessed
be Thou, O Lord our God, the King of the world, who hast produced this
food from the earth,"--and to give it to every one at the table. It was
the custom of the master of the family to take the cup which contained
the wine, and to bless it, saying, "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, who givest
us the fruit of the vine,"--and then to give the cup to all. Among the
modern Jews who in their dispersion retain the Passover, a hymn is also
sung after this ceremony, specifying the twelve great works done by God
for the deliverance of their fathers out of Egypt.
But still it may be asked, why did Jesus make expressions so
extraordinary and emphatic as these--"This is my body which is broken
for you. Take; eat. This is my blood which is shed for you. Drink
it."--I reply they are not extraordinary expressions from him. They were
familiar in his mouth. He always taught by parables and symbols. It was
the national way of teaching and was largely used by him. Remember the
readiness which he always showed to spiritualize every occurrence. He
stooped and wrote on the sand. He admonished his disciples respecting
the leaven of the Pharisees. He instructed the woman of Samaria
respecting living water. He permitted himself to be anointed, declaring
that it was for his interment. He washed the feet of his disciples.
These are admitted to be symbolical actions and expressions. Here, in
like manner, he calls the bread his body, and bids the disciples eat. He
had used the same expression repeatedly before. The reason why St. John
does not repeat his words on this occasion, seems to be that he had
reported a similar discourse of Jesus to the people of Capernaum more at
length already (John VI. 27). He there tells the Jews, "Except ye eat
the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye have no life in
you." And when the Jews on that occasion complained that they did not
comprehend what he meant, he added for their better understanding, and
as if for our understanding, that we might not think his body was to be
actually eaten, that he only meant, _we should live by his commandment_.
He closed his discourse with these explanatory expressions: "The flesh
profiteth nothing; the _words_ that I speak to you, they are spirit and
they are life."
Whilst I am upon this topic, I cannot help remarking that it is not a
little singular that we should have preserved this rite and insisted
upon perpetuating one symbolical act of Christ whilst we have totally
neglected all others--particularly one other which had at least an equal
claim to our observance. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and told
them that, as he had washed their feet, they ought to wash one another's
feet; for he had given them an example, that they should do as he had
done to them. I ask any person who believes the Supper to have been
designed by Jesus to be commemorated forever, to go and read the account
of it in the other Gospels, and then compare with it the account of this
transaction in St. John, and tell me if this be not much more explicitly
authorized than the Supper. It only differs in this, that we have found
the Supper used in New England and the washing of the feet not. But if
we had found it an established rite in our churches, on grounds of mere
authority, it would have been impossible to have argued against it. That
rite is used by the Church of Rome, and by the Sandemanians. It has been
very properly dropped by other Christians. Why? For two reasons: (1)
because it was a local custom, and unsuitable in western countries; and
(2) because it was typical, and all understand that humility is the
thing signified. But the Passover was local too, and does not concern
us, and its bread and wine were typical, and do not help us to
understand the redemption which they signified.
These views of the original account of the Lord's Supper lead me to
esteem it an occasion full of solemn and prophetic interest, but never
intended by Jesus to be the foundation of a perpetual institution.
It appears however in Christian history that the disciples had very
early taken advantage of these impressive words of Christ to hold
religious meetings, where they broke bread and drank wine as symbols.
I look upon this fact as very natural in the circumstances of the
church. The disciples lived together; they threw all their property into
a common stock; they were bound together by the memory of Christ, and
nothing could be more natural than that this eventful evening should be
affectionately remembered by them; that they, Jews like Jesus, should
adopt his expressions and his types, and furthermore, that what was done
with peculiar propriety by them, his personal friends, with less
propriety should come to be extended to their companions also. In this
way religious feasts grew up among the early Christians. They were
readily adopted by the Jewish converts who were familiar with religious
feasts, and also by the Pagan converts whose idolatrous worship had been
made up of sacred festivals, and who very readily abused these to gross
riot, as appears from the censures of St. Paul. Many persons consider
this fact, the observance of such a memorial feast by the early
disciples, decisive of the question whether it ought to be observed by
us. For my part I see nothing to wonder at in its originating with them;
all that is surprising is that it should exist among us. There was good
reason for his personal friends to remember their friend and repeat his
words. It was only too probable that among the half converted Pagans and
Jews, any rite, any form, would find favor, whilst yet unable to
comprehend the spiritual character of Christianity.
The circumstance, however, that St. Paul adopts these views, has seemed
to many persons conclusive in favor of the institution. I am of opinion
that it is wholly upon the epistle to the Corinthians, and not upon the
Gospels, that the ordinance stands. Upon this matter of St. Paul's view
of the Supper, a few important considerations must be stated.
The end which he has in view, in the eleventh chapter of the first
epistle is, not to enjoin upon his friends to observe the Supper, but to
censure their abuse of it. _We_ quote the passage now-a-days as if it
enjoined attendance upon the Supper; but he wrote it merely to chide
them for drunkenness. To make their enormity plainer he goes back to the
origin of this religious feast to show what sort of feast that was, out
of which this riot of theirs came, and so relates the transactions of
the Last Supper. "_I have received of the Lord_," he says, "_that which
I delivered to you_." By this expression it is often thought that a
miraculous communication is implied; but certainly without good reason,
if it is remembered that St. Paul was living in the lifetime of all the
apostles who could give him an account of the transaction; and it is
contrary to all reason to suppose that God should work a miracle to
convey information that could so easily be got by natural means. So that
the import of the expression is that he had received the story of an
eye-witness such as we also possess.