[154] In the same year he addressed a letter to Emerson, who, as
a cousin of his wife, was well known to him from the first. The
familiarity of the opening recalls what he said in writing of him many
years after: "Waldo, we always called him in those days, though now all
adjuncts have dropped away from the shining name of Emerson."
To Ralph Waldo Emerson.
BOSTON, May 13, 1836.
DEAR WALDO,--I felt much disappointed when, on going to Hancock Place
the third time, I found that you had gone to Concord; for I was drawn
to you as by a kind of spell. I wanted to see you, though it seemed to
me that I could not speak to you one word. I can do no more now,--I am
dumb with amazement and sorrow;{12} and yet I must write to you, were
it only to drop a tear on the page I send. Your poor mother! I did
not know she had come with you. Miss Hoar{13} I do not know, and will
intrude no message; but I think of her more than many messages could
express. My dear friend, I am as much concerned for you as for any one.
God give you strength to comfort others! Alas! we all make too much
of death. Like a vase of crystal that fair form was shattered,--in a
moment shattered! Can such an event be the catastrophe we make it?
{FN 12: This letter was called forth by the sudden death of
Charles Chauncey Emerson, a younger brother of Ralph Waldo
Emerson, and one of the noblest young men of America.}
{FN 13: Miss Hoar was betrothed to Charles Emerson.}
[155] I preached to-day at Chauncey Place{14}. I will copy a passage.
(I have not space to give the connection.)
"There stood once where now I stand, a father,--I knew him not, but to
some of you he was known,--who, ere his children were twined up for
life, was called to leave them, but whose fair example and fervent
prayer visited them, and dwelt among them, and helped, with much kindly
nurture, to form them to learning, virtue, honor, and to present
them to the world a goodly band of brothers. And say not, because
one and another has fallen on the threshold of life,--fallen amidst
the brightest visions and most brilliant promises of youth,--that it
is all in vain; that parental toils and cares and prayers are all in
vain. There is another life, where every exalted power trained here
shall find expansion, improvement, and felicity. [Those sons of the
morning, who stand for a moment upon the verge of this earthly horizon
amidst the first splendors of day, and then vanish away into heaven,
as if translated, not deceased, seem to teach us, almost by a sensible
manifestation, how short is the step and how natural is the passage
from earth to heaven.]{15} They almost open heaven to us, and they help
our languid efforts to reach it, by the most powerful of all earthly
aids,--the memory of admired and loved virtues. Yes, the mingled sorrow
and affection which have swelled many hearts among us within the last
week, tell me that the excellence we have lost has not lived in vain.
Precious memory of early [156] virtue and piety! and such memories, and
more than one such, there are among you. Hold these bright companions
ever dear, my young friends; embalm their memory in the fragrant breath
of your love; follow them with the generous emulation of virtue; let
the seal which death has set upon excellence stamp it with a character
of new sanctity and authority; let not virtue die and friendship mourn
in vain!"
{FN 14: The church formerly ministered to by the Rev. William
Emerson, the father of these rare sons.}
{FN 15: This letter is taken from a copy, not the original; and
the meaning of the brackets is uncertain. Probably, however,
the passage which they enclose is a quotation.}
Remember me with most affectionate sympathy to your mother, and Aunt
Mary, and to Dr. Ripley.
With my kind regards to your wife, I am, dear Waldo, in love and
prayer, yours,