* AMERICAN MEN OF LETTERS * 
 
 RIPLEY 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 B 3 125 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Class 
 
American jtten of Letters, 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. 
 
L 
 
American flfytn 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY, 
 
 BY 
 
 OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM. 
 
 
 
 
 
 UN; 
 
 OF 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 , Cambrib0e 
 
.-. ". 5 
 
 AUriyktt 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 MM 
 
 EARLY DATS. MINISTRT .... . 1 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 GERMS OF THOUGHT 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 BROOK FARM ....... .108 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 BROOK FARM. FODRIERISM .... 166 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 LABOB ....... < 1W 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 SORROW ......... 226 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 THE NEW DAT ..... 248 
 
 213370 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 PAQI 
 
 RECOGNITION 273 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE END . ..... ,995 
 
GEOEGE EIPLET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 EARLY DAYS. MINISTRY. 
 
 THE purpose of this memoir is to recover the 
 image and do justice to the character of a re 
 markable man, the pursuits of whose latter 
 years gave him little opportunity to display his 
 deepest convictions, while his singular charm of 
 manner and conversation concealed from all but 
 those who knew him well the recesses of his feel 
 ings ; a man of letters, a man too of ideas and 
 purposes which left a broad mark on his age, 
 and deserve to be gratefully borne in mind. 
 
 George Ripley was born in Greenfield, the 
 shire town of Franklin County, Massachusetts, 
 a fair spot in the Connecticut Valley, about 
 ninety miles west from Boston, on the third 
 day of October, 1802. He was the youngest but 
 one of ten children, four boys and six girls, all 
 of whom died before him. His brother Frank 
 lin, a graduate of Dartmouth College, educat 
 ed as a lawyer, and for many years cashier of 
 the Greenfield bank, a man of mark, honored 
 and trusted, died in 1860. His dearly beloved 
 sister Marianne, a woman of superior mental 
 i 
 
2 GEORGE RIPLEJ. 
 
 gifts, as well as of the highest personal quali 
 ties, closely acquainted with many prominent 
 men and women of her time, an engaging 
 teacher, and an earnest fellow-worker with her 
 brother at Brook Farm, died at Madison, Wis 
 consin, in May, 1868. The father, Jerome Rip- 
 ley, born in Hingham, moved from Boston to 
 Greenfield in 1789. He is described by David 
 Willard, the historian of Greenfield, as a man 
 " whose integrity was never even suspected ; of 
 whose virtue and uprightness a long course of 
 years leaves no question ; an eminent example 
 of the beneficial effects of steady industry and 
 perseverance in one calling, and of minding 
 one s own business." He was a merchant, a 
 justice of the peace nearly fifty years, a repre 
 sentative in the state Legislature, and one of 
 the justices of the court of sessions. The 
 mother, a connection of Benjamin Franklin 
 (her great-grandfather was Dr. Franklin s un 
 cle), was a good example of a New England 
 woman, frugal, precise, formal, stately, reserved, 
 but kind and warm-hearted at the core. She 
 was Orthodox in religion ; her husband was 
 Unitarian. There was then in Greenfield, a 
 town of about fifteen hundred inhabitants, but 
 one church ; the Second Congregational society 
 having been formed in 1816, the Third, or Uni 
 tarian, in 1825. At the ordination there, in 
 
EARLY DAYS. 3 
 
 1837, of John Parkman, George Ripley took 
 part. 
 
 In 1831 Ezra Stiles Gannett, returning from 
 a visit to Greenfield, writes: " I have always 
 found my mind, after a visit to this place or 
 Connecticut, in a very different state from what 
 is usual at home. My thoughts are more di 
 rected to the subject of religion, of vital and 
 internal piety. Conference and religious meet 
 ings are common, and religion seems more an 
 every-day thing than with us." Six years later, 
 in 1837, Theodore Parker went there. The 
 place was charming, but the parish was not at 
 tractive. The meetings were held in a court 
 room. There were five societies for less than 
 two thousand people. The sectarian activity was 
 greatly in excess of the spiritual. The centres 
 of thought were distant ; the weekly mail from 
 Boston came on horseback. George Ripley had 
 pleasant memories of his early life in this de 
 lightful region. A little more than a year be 
 fore his death he affectionately recalled scenes, 
 persons, and social features of that " primitive, 
 beautiful country life," but he went there sel 
 dom, as his thoughts were engrossed by larger 
 concerns. 
 
 He began his education at the public school, 
 a good one. In 1838 there were seven, show 
 ing a remarkable interest in education for g* 
 
4: GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 small a community. The only reminiscence ol 
 his early mental habits is a frequently expressed 
 desire to " make a dictionary," a curious an 
 ticipation of his future employment. At Cam 
 bridge he was known as a remarkably handsome 
 youth, with bright piercing eyes, an excellent 
 scholar, especially in the languages and in lit 
 erature; he excelled also in the mathematics, 
 which afterwards, during part of his stay in 
 Cambridge, as a student of theology, he taught 
 in his college. Twice he received the second 
 Bowdoin prize. 
 
 HADLEY, June 16, 1818. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... We have a very large 
 school this term, about one hundred and thirty. Mr. 
 Huntingdon calculates to fit me for college before 
 next Commencement. I suspect that if my health is 
 good I can read the Testament and Minora this 
 term, which is all that is required at Yale. To fail 
 is absolutely impossible. In haste, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 HADLEY, July 10, 1818. 
 
 HONORED PARENT, ... This quarter expires 
 on the llth of August, about six weeks from this 
 time. I expect then to have studied the Mmora and 
 arithmetic. There will then be only a fortnight be 
 fore Commencement, and the remaining studies which 
 I need are the Greek Testament and algebra and 
 
EARLY DAYS. 5 
 
 ncient and modern geography. You will easily 
 perceive that it will be impossible for me to become 
 acquainted with these before the term commences. 
 I may perhaps, with hard study and previous calcula 
 tions, by a year from next fall be fitted as a Sopho 
 more, if you should conclude to send me to Cam 
 bridge. The Commencement at Yale is the second 
 week in September, with a vacation of six weeks. 
 All that I shall be deficient in at the end of the quar 
 ter, of the preparatory studies required at Yale, will 
 be the Greek Testament. A knowledge of that I 
 could easily obtain, and before the commencement of 
 the term be well fitted and enabled to have a respect 
 able standing in the class. 1 think it is altogether 
 necessary for me to know what arrangements are 
 made respecting me, before the expiration of this 
 term. I feel grateful that you are willing to be at 
 the additional expense of educating me, and I hope 
 that I shall duly appreciate the favor. It shall be 
 my endeavor, by economy and self-denial, to render 
 the burden as light as possible. But I feel embold 
 ened to make the request that, if consistent with your 
 inclinations and plans, I may receive an education at 
 Yale rather than Cambridge. I may be thought as 
 suming and even impertinent to make this request. 
 But, sir, I entreat you to consider the thing. The 
 literary advantages at Cambridge are superior in 
 some respects to those at Yale. The languages can 
 undoubtedly be learnt best at Cambridge. But it is 
 allowed by many, who have had opportunity to judge, 
 free from prejudice, that the solid branches may be 
 
6 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 acquired to as great perfection at Yale. Cousiu 
 Henry, who has had some information on the subject, 
 says that for mathematics, metaphysics, and for the 
 solid sciences in general, Yale is the best. The 
 temptations incident to a college, we have reason to 
 think, are less at Yale than at Cambridge. 
 I remain your obliged and affectionate son, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 WALTHAM, June 12, 1819. 
 
 Mr DEAR MOTHER, We had upon the whole a 
 pleasant journey, though it was rendered disagree 
 able by the extreme heat and dust and the number 
 of passengers. We arrived at Lincoln about eight in 
 the evening, where we met Dr. Ripley, who carried 
 us to Concord. There I passed the night and part 
 of the next day, and in the afternoon rode to Wai 
 tham with cousin Sarah. She stated the case to Mr. 
 Ripley, who was willing to instruct me, and after an 
 examination expressed his opinion that probably I 
 might enter at Cambridge, if not at Commencement, 
 at the close of the vacation. He has a house full of 
 boys, two of whom are to be examined in the fall. 
 The advantages here for being well prepared for col- 
 ege are indeed many. His system of instruction is 
 Altogether different from anything which I have been 
 accustomed to. It is pretty certain if I had not come 
 here, or to some other similar place, I should not 
 have been fitted for Cambridge this year ; and as I 
 now am I consider it something doubtful whether I 
 can get in. My boarding-place is at a Mrs. Smith s 
 
COLLEGE. 
 
 a very respectable family. The board is $3.00 a 
 week, a large sum. But I trust that eventually 
 it will be cheaper for me than if I had remained at 
 Greenfield. The place is very pleasant, many beau 
 tiful walks and prospects, and a good situation for 
 acquiring knowledge, but the religious state of the 
 place is far different from that of Greenfield. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, October, 1819. 
 
 DEAR MOTHER, At length I have got pretty 
 comfortably established in this seminary, and begin 
 to feel at home. I have had a very confused time 
 hitherto, owing to the perplexities and inconveniences 
 which usually attend a student on his first entrance 
 on a collegiate course ; but I now find considerable 
 quiet and tranquillity, and can behold a prospect of 
 profit and improvement. I arrived in Boston the 
 day after leaving Greenfield, and found our friends 
 in health. You probably desire to know concerning 
 my situation and prosperity at this place, but I hardly 
 know what opinion to form myself. As I observed 
 before, the prospect for improvement in learning is 
 favorable. Undoubtedly there are means and privi 
 leges here particularly great, such as are enjoyed by 
 no other American college. The course of studies 
 adopted here, in the opinion of competent judges, is 
 singularly calculated to form scholars, and, moreover, 
 correct and accurate scholars ; to inure the mind to 
 profound thought and habits of investigation and 
 reasoning. I am in great hopes that my health wiL 
 }e able to endure the exertions necessary to be made, 
 
8 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 I am not obliged to study at all hard to perform the 
 exercises allotted me. At present our lessons can all 
 be learnt in three, or at most four, hours. But the 
 diligent student will find something to occupy all his 
 time, and leave not a moment to be spent in idleness. 
 I expect to have some time to read, and if a judicious 
 choice of books is made it may be profitable. The 
 expense here will probably be nearly as you expected. 
 The commons are charged according to the price of 
 provisions; but usually there is an extra expense, 
 called sizing ; that is, if you don t have bread, or but 
 ter, or meat, etc., sufficient, you can call for more, 
 and be charged four cents a time. This amounts, 
 when it is done no oftener than is absolutely neces 
 sary, to, say, $2.00 a term. The books used in the 
 classes are furnished by the University booksellers, 
 at a discount of twenty per cent., to be charged in the 
 quarter bill. Many second-hand are to be obtained, 
 however, for a trifle. I bought a very good book, 
 the price of which is $2.80, for two shillings, and 
 one or two others in the same proportion. My wash 
 ing I have done at $5.00 per term. 
 
 Your affectionate son, G. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, HARVARD UNIVERSITY, 
 November 10, 1819. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I would say a few 
 words concerning my teaching a school the ensuing 
 winter. I have no one in particular in view at pres 
 ent, and it may be doubtful whether I can obtain a 
 good one. If it should be thought expedient, I 
 
COLLEGE. 9 
 
 should be willing to teach one in the -vicinity of 
 Greenfield. If I could obtain one in Shelburne, be 
 ginning the Monday after Thanksgiving, and con 
 tinue two months, at the rate of $16.00 a month, it 
 would perhaps be an object. I consider it my duty 
 to use what exertions are in my power to render the 
 burden necessary to complete my education as small 
 as possible. Your affectionate son, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 April 20, 1820. 
 
 . . . The commons have deteriorated very much 
 ,*Js term, and are almost abandoned by the scholars, 
 among the rest by me. I can board at the same 
 price as the commons will be in the bill, and on much 
 more wholesome provisions. I presume you will ap 
 prove of my change. Next term I hope to board in 
 my room at $2.00, as nearly one fourth of the schol 
 ars do. This custom is recently introduced by Pro 
 fessor Everett, who sets the example in imitation of 
 the German universities, whose manners and customs 
 .hey endeavor to adopt as much as possible. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY, CAMBRIDGE, May 15. 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, . . . We have been sub 
 jected to many temporary inconveniences for our at 
 tachment to what we considered our duty, and what 
 our own interest and the interests of the college de 
 manded. But good has been educed from evil. The 
 division has been so deeply rooted, and animositiei 
 ire so malignant and inveterate, as effectually to pre 
 
10 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 venfe much of the social intercourse for which, when 
 Freshmen, we were particularly distinguished. The 
 competition for scholarship has been zealous and en 
 ergetic, and each party jealous of the other strives to 
 win the prize. 
 
 It has been reported by our enemies that the only 
 object of those who opposed the rebellion was to 
 secure the favor of the government, and thereby ob 
 tain higher college honors. Now it happens that 
 most of our number are good scholars, and they have 
 endeavored to prove, and have probably succeeded, 
 that if they do receive high honors it will be due to 
 their literary merit, and not to their conduct in this 
 affair. Mr. Dorr, of whom you have heard me speak, 
 is one of the most efficient and worthy members of 
 our party, and is considered by the class as decidedly 
 the first scholar. He, indeed, possesses a powerful 
 mind, and has every faculty of appearing to the best 
 advantage. The tutors say he is the best scholar of 
 his age they ever knew. He will probably spend 
 some years in Germany after he leaves Cambridge, 
 and if his health is spared return one of the most 
 eminent among our literary men. I am happy to 
 consider this man my friend, for the excellences of 
 his heart are not surpassed by the strength of his 
 genius. I look forward with pleasure, though not 
 unmingled with regret, to the close of the first half 
 of my college life. I never expect to be in a state 
 where I can have superior means of improvement and 
 happiness ; but the minds of young men, inexperi- 
 snced and ardent, long for emancipation from the re> 
 
COLLEGE. 11 
 
 8 train ts of college and power, to take a more active 
 nd more conspicuous part in the great theatre of 
 life. Be it my lot to retire to some peaceful village, 
 where, " the world forgetting, and by the world for 
 got," I may pass the remainder of my days in study 
 and labor. I love sometimes to anticipate such a 
 station as this. Where the Lord will appoint the 
 bounds of my habitation I cannot see. My duty, 
 however, at present is plain : diligently to improve 
 the advantages I enjoy, aspire after high intellectual 
 and moral and religious excellence, and do what I 
 can for the good of those around me. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, HARVARD UNIVERSITT, 
 April 6, 1821. 
 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, . . , The dull monotony 
 of college life presents little that is interesting to 
 strangers, and the confinement to abstruse studies 
 chills the ardor of feeling which is so necessary to 
 the cultivation of the more kindly and tender affec 
 tions. Notwithstanding, I hope that I shall be able 
 to maintain a more intimate and regular intercourse 
 with my much-loved home. Our studies are so al 
 tered this term as to allow more time for our own 
 concerns ; but they are still severe, and, if faithfully 
 attended to, will occupy most of our time and thoughts. 
 The path of knowledge is difficult and embarrassing, 
 requiring the highest exertions of all our faculties. 
 But it is a cause in which we richly receive the re 
 ward of our labors. The prospect of devoting my 
 days to the acquisition and communication of knowl 
 
12 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 ledge is bright and cheering ; this employment 1 
 would not exchange for the most elevated station of 
 wealth or honor. One of the happiest steps, I think, 
 that I have ever taken was the commencement of 8 
 course of study, and it is my wish and effort that my 
 future progress may give substantial evidence of it. 
 It is interesting to contemplate the characters of 
 great and good men of other times, and trace the path 
 by which they arrived at excellence. We see much, 
 however, in many of the most eminent men which 
 cannot command our approbation, and frequently that 
 awakens our disgust. In a religious view, perhaps, 
 the greatest part of those whose names are conspicu 
 ous on the records of fame deserve reprobation. "We 
 shall see that they were actuated by motives of a 
 worldly and selfish ambition, and their very virtues 
 were so mingled with what is evidently corrupt that 
 we are in doubt whether they deserve that name. 
 There is, indeed, a deceitful splendor cast around 
 them by the art of the historian, but this very cir 
 cumstance is suited to misguide and delude the youth 
 ful mind. There is great danger lest, in the inexpe 
 rienced and sanguine season of youth, we acquire 
 admiration of those characters, and adopt them as 
 models, which cannot fail to be productive of the 
 most injurious consequences. But there are some 
 whom we can safely imitate. Such was Cowper. 
 " His virtues formed the magic of his song." Of this 
 class was Dr. Dwight. I have never read of any 
 one, I think, who approached icarer to perfection of 
 character. . 
 
COLLEGE. 18 
 
 I send up Dr. Channing s lecture, supposing my 
 father would like to have it ; and, by the way, men 
 tion that he is the author of the very beautiful memoir 
 of Gallison in the last " Christian Disciple." 
 
 Yours, affectionately, . G. RIPLEY. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY, July 12, 182L 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, ... I long to see yon 
 all ; and though you know I have no enthusiastic 
 attachment to Greenfield, I would gladly transport 
 myself thither, this moment, to enjoy a few days in 
 the good old hospitable, beautiful mansion. After 
 six weeks of hard digging, I hope to partake of that 
 happiness. Our studies, however, though hard, are 
 singularly pleasant. We have made some progress 
 in the intricate mazes of metaphysics, but, with such 
 a guide as our learned Professor Hedge, we find our 
 difficulties much lessened. We are now studying 
 Locke, an author who has done more to form the 
 mind to habits of accurate reasoning and sound 
 thought than almost any other. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY July 17, 1821. 
 ... If ever I get through this Sophomore year, I 
 hope to have some few occasional moments, at least, 
 to devote to what I choose. Now that is out of the 
 question ; the class are rapidly going on, and unless 
 I give myself to their studies I shall forever lose 
 jhe important knowledge. . . . Last Tuesday the 
 Senior class had their valedictory exercises. It was 
 \ class always distinguished for unanimity, and the 
 
14 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 parting scene could not be otherwise than solemn and 
 affecting. More tears were shed than ever I wit 
 nessed, or had an idea of, among a company of men. 
 This class contains some young men of the highest 
 promise. The .Commencement will probably be the 
 best there has been here for years. 
 
 Affectionately your son, GEORGE. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY, October 30, 1822. 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I have engaged a 
 school in Fitchburg, expecting to raise about $40.00. 
 This is certainly better than being devoured by in 
 dolence and ennui in a long vacation. It begins im 
 mediately after Thanksgiving, and if the wagoner 
 does not come twice before then, the next time I 
 shall wish to have him bring sundry little conven 
 iences. Yours, affectionately, G. R. 
 
 FITCHBURO, December 14, 1822. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, It is now a week since I 
 became an inmate in the family of a good, honest, 
 homespun farmer, and assumed the highly important 
 and respectable office of instructing some forty over 
 grown, dirty, mischief-loving boys in the mysteries of 
 the spelling-book and Adams s arithmetic. I have de 
 ferred writing until this time for several reasons. I 
 had not become acquainted with the regulations of 
 the mail, etc. I live at some distance from anybody 
 but my " parishioners," who are not of that class who 
 form the Corinthian columns of society ; and above 
 all, I find that head and hands and eyes and tongu 
 
COLLEGE. 15 
 
 have their full quota of employment in superintend 
 ing the economy of my little empire. This is Sat 
 urday afternoon, equally grateful, I presume, to the 
 scholars and to " the master," as I am universally 
 called. My situation, although one in which I shall 
 be but a short time, I suppose you wish to be ao 
 quainted with. I cannot, however, give you a pre 
 cise idea of it. It is a school in the outskirts of this 
 town, where nature appears in all its loneliness and 
 wildness, if not magnificence and loveliness. And it 
 is, upon the whole, a very pleasant school. The 
 scholars have been under good instruction, and are 
 singularly attentive to their studies. I have six or 
 seven great boys, much larger than myself, who study 
 surveying, chemistry, philosophy, etc., so that there 
 is some scope for the exercise of intellect. Most of 
 them are studying grammar, geography, and arithme 
 tic. I am determined to exert myself and keep a 
 good school. I can certainly, I think, make myself 
 useful here. There is no particular society in my 
 district, but in the middle of the town, two miles off, 
 there are some families whom I shall visit occasion 
 ally with pleasure. I could give you a most curious 
 account of the customs, etc., but it might not be ex^ 
 actly prudent. Suffice it to say, I see human nature 
 under forms that I had scarcely dreamed of ; still, 
 1 get information from it, and there is no knowledge 
 6ut what is valuable. Three years ago I should have 
 been miserably homesick at such a place, but I have 
 learned to shape myself to circumstances. I conform 
 entirely to the manners of the people, and drink cider 
 
16 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 and tell stories about cattle with as much grace as 
 ever I figured among the literati at Cambridge. You 
 would hardly know me, with a long beard and dirty 
 shirt, and the worst clothes I can find. So much for 
 Fitchburg. I spent Thanksgiving at Concord, and 
 had a good time. 
 
 May 2, Friday Evening. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, . . . Five of our class 
 were expelled to-day, Robinson among them. The 
 class that is to say, of course, all but the friends of 
 order are in a state of infuriated excitement and 
 rebellion. What will take place to-morrcw I will not 
 venture to predict. It will not surprise us if all the 
 class are cut off down to those who have uniformly 
 proved themselves the supporters of good discipline. 
 It may be that the whole of us will be ordered to 
 leave Cambridge ; in that case I shall of course 
 come home. If not, in the present exigency it will 
 be impossible to quit. In haste yours, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 May 3, 1823. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... In consequence of 
 the expulsion of four who were distinguished in the 
 attack, the class, or a considerable portion rather, re 
 belled, and they are all gone. Those who remain 
 are sober men of both parties. As regards myself, I 
 am so fortunate as to have escaped any censure from 
 ^e government of the class. True to my old prin- 
 ^>les, of course, I did not join the mob, and have en 
 deavored to keep myself quiet. . . . 
 
COLLEGE. 17 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Jne, 1823. 
 MY DEAR FATHER, As I have never had the 
 opportunity of conversing particularly with you on 
 the course proper for me to adopt on the termination 
 of my connection with the college, I take the liberty 
 of expressing my own views and of requesting your 
 advice. If I were governed merely by the hope of 
 euccess in life, and perhaps of some degree of emi 
 nence, I should by all means endeavor to perfect my 
 education by an elaborate course of study, and a res 
 olution to avoid all thoughts of engaging in the du 
 ties of a profession till after a laborious preparation 
 of many years. This plan I am advised to adopt by 
 some in whose judgment I should place high confi 
 dence. And were I possessed of a moderate for 
 tune, I believe that inclination and duty would both 
 prompt me to this enterprise, as laying the broadest 
 foundation for future usefulness. The idea of a for 
 eign university would perhaps appear visionary, and 
 in my case I will confess it is entirely so. Still I 
 cannot avoid all regret at beholding the superior ad 
 vantages which are accessible to our fortunate young 
 men, and wishing myself able to enjoy them. For I 
 know that my peculiar habits of mind, imperfect as 
 they are, strongly impel me to the path of active in 
 tellectual effort ; and if I am to be at any time of 
 any use to society, or a satisfaction to myself or my 
 friends, it will be in the way of some retired literary 
 situation, where a fondness for study and a knowl 
 edge of books will be more requisite than the busy, 
 calculating mind of a man in the business part of the 
 2 
 
18 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 community. I do not mean to say by this that any 
 profession is desired but the one to which I have 
 been long looking. My wish is only to enter that 
 profession with all the enlargement of mind and ex 
 tent of information which the best institution can 
 afford. In my present circumstances, I cannot rea 
 sonably hope for anything more than a sedulous ef 
 fort to avail myself of what the literary resources we 
 have can give. I wish to study my profession thor 
 oughly. I do not feel prepared to enter upon these 
 important inquiries before a more accurate acquaint 
 ance is obtained with some subsidiary branches. For 
 this purpose I wish to spend a year at Cambridge, 
 in a course of study which I have prescribed for my 
 self, unconnected with any department in the uni 
 versity. I should prefer to pursue my theological 
 studies at Andover, both because I am convinced that 
 the opportunities for close investigation of the Script 
 ures are superior there to those at Cambridge, and 
 the spirit of the place, much relaxed from its former 
 severe and gloomy bigotry, is more favorable to a 
 tone of decided piety. This is my present opinion 
 of Andover. I might, after more extensive acquaint 
 ance, have reason to alter it. The only objection at 
 tending this plan is the expense. . . . 
 I am your affectionate son, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 July 18, 1823. 
 
 Mr DEAR MOTHER, I have the pleasure of in 
 forming you that our college course is at length fin 
 
COLLEGE. 19 
 
 ished, and I may add, with joy. On Tuesday we u 
 ceived the valedictory from the president, and took on 
 leave of the college officers at the president s house. 
 The world is now before us, and our future charac 
 ter depends much on the course we now adopt. I 
 feel a strong and affectionate attachment to the col 
 lege and its governors. I have found here my best 
 friends, and I have been enabled to acquire their con 
 fidence. I wish now to devote myself to the cause 
 of truth and virtue, in the study of a pure religion 
 and the cultivation of a sound literature. I regret 
 that I have been unsuccessful hitherto in my attempt 
 to procure a school. I shall still look out for a suit 
 able one, and may perhaps attain my object. I must 
 stay here, at any rate, until I have prepared for Com 
 mencement, for which occasion I feel very unable to 
 meet my duty. It affects my spirits materially. The 
 scale has preponderated in my favor. 1 have the 
 first part, and of course an unusual degree of re- 
 eponsibleness. I am also the author, as you may 
 have seen in the paper, of a successful Dissertation 
 for the Bowdoin Prize. . . . 
 
 In 1823 he was graduated at Harvard, first 
 scholar in a class which could boast of William 
 P. Lunt, Samuel H. Stearns, and Thomas W. 
 Dorr, of Rhode Island fame. John P. Robin 
 son, the hero of J. R. Lowell s celebrated 
 rhyme, pressed him hard, but was suspended 
 from college for the share he took in the " re 
 bellion," and lost his degree, which was given 
 
20 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 him in 1845. At the exercises of graduation 
 Ripley spoke the English oration, the subject 
 being " Genius as affected by Moral Feeling." 
 The three years following were spent in the 
 study of divinity, during a portion of which 
 he was a member of the College Faculty, rep 
 resenting the departments of Mathematics and 
 Natural Philosophy. Of his life in the Divin 
 ity School there is scanty record ; but so high 
 was his rank as a scholar that at the close 
 of his studies there was throughout academic 
 circles the expectation for him of a brilliant 
 future. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, September 30, 1823. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, With pleasure I begin the 
 labors of my new situation by informing you of my 
 condition and prospects ; and I know that you will 
 rejoice with me in the goodness of Providence which 
 has appointed the bounds of my habitation where I 
 have every facility for real improvement. 
 
 The prospects of our Theological School are so 
 good, and the call in society for a faithful and de 
 voted clergy, who combine liberal views with deep 
 piety, is daily becoming so urgent, that I cannot re 
 gret having chosen this place as the scene of my 
 theological investigations. Indeed, it is thought by 
 many competent judges, and among them Dr. Chan- 
 ning, that this institution presents advantages for 
 forming useful, practical clergymen not inferior tc 
 the foreign universities. He advises William Eraer 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 21 
 
 Bon to study at Cambridge rather than at Gottingen, 
 believing that though Germany affords the greatest 
 advantages as far as mere literature is concerned, yet 
 that the bast education for a minister in New Eng 
 land, taking into account the moral influence and re 
 ligious feeling, can be obtained at Cambridge. ... I 
 am remarkably pleasantly situated, and have every 
 thing to my mind. My room is in a brick house, 
 the south end, the very last house on the right 
 hand of the street in which the printing-office is. I 
 hope that father will have no difficulty in finding it. 
 It is on the lower floor, about as large as our front 
 room, with two recesses in it ; these I have divided 
 off by a curtain from the main room, so as to form 
 closets. I have all Mr. Lincoln s books at my dis 
 posal, which, together with the few that I own myself, 
 form a very pretty little library. I feel perfectly sat 
 isfied that I have acted according to the will of Prov 
 idence; as far as I can ascertain it, in uniting myself 
 to this school, and that so far from departing from 
 my religious principles, as some would suppose, I 
 have done that which will tend to their improvement 
 and perfection. I could say much on the emotions 
 which are awakened on commencing those studies to 
 which I hare long been looking with fond anxiety 
 and earnest hope. I feel that it is solemn indeed 
 to take any step towards an office involving such re 
 sponsibility, such infinite consequences. But God 
 will use such instruments as He chooses to promote 
 aia truth in the world. . 
 
22 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, October 1, 1893. 
 
 Mi DEAR MOTHER, . . . My cares are now 
 for my books. My walks of pleasure are exchanged 
 for walks of exercise and health ; and Green River 
 Bridge has given way to Mr. Norton s study and the 
 library. And I am glad. Much as I love company 
 and gayety, I do love study and retirement best ; and 
 for this reason, when I once get to Cambridge, I feel 
 that I never wish to go out of it. It would be so, I 
 suppose, in any place where I had such cherished in 
 tellectual friends, and where scarce anything is desti 
 tute of associated circumstances, interesting, and to 
 literary effort and to moral sentiment inspiring. It 
 may be superstition, but I cannot help the feeling 
 I have a strong reverence for the Genius of Place, 
 and to me there is no place for the exercise of free, 
 vigorous, effectual thought like this ; and after these 
 remarks you will not ask me why I like Cambridge 
 so much. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, October 14, 1823. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I am on very differ 
 ent grounds from what I was when an under-graduate. 
 Then I was led on by others ; now I am left to my 
 own keeping, and you may judge the weight of re 
 sponsibility which I must feel. We have exercises 
 in the Hebrew language three times a week, and once 
 a week we present the results of our theological read 
 ing and investigations on topics pointed out to us by 
 Dr. Ware. I am besides diligently engaged in Greek 
 and other subsidiary studies ; so that my time is more 
 sompletely and regularly occupied than ever. I hope 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 23 
 
 to make all these attainments subservient to the great 
 cause of truth. I am much disappointed in what I 
 have learned of the religious character of the school, 
 I confess. I had some prejudices against many of its 
 members, who, destitute of the austerity, I had thought 
 to be deficient in the spirit, of religion. But if a 
 more intimate acquaintance has enabled me to judge 
 rightly, the depth and purity of their religious feel 
 ing and the holy simplicity of their lives is enough 
 to humble and shame those who have been long pro 
 fessors of Christianity, and had pretended to superior 
 sanctity. We meet morning and evening for devo 
 tional exercises, and I have no hesitation in saying 
 that if I have ever witnessed the display of spiritual 
 ity and seriousness of devotion it is in these little 
 meetings. . . . 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, November 3, 1823. 
 
 MY DEAR MOLLY, ... I am here engaged in a 
 great work, while at home with you I am idle, use 
 less, and unimprovdng. I have commenced the most 
 interesting studies, which, to me, are superior to any 
 thing which can occupy my mind. My business is 
 now well arranged; every hour has its duty, and 
 every day I can look back and most generally " re 
 port progress." I am now employed something in 
 the way in which I trust I am destined to pass my 
 life; and if the profession I have chosen is in any 
 degree as rich in sources of delight as the study of it, 
 my lot is indeed a happy one. I expect to pass a life 
 of poverty, and I care not if of obscurity ; but give 
 me my Bible and the studijs which relate to its in- 
 
24 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 terpretation, give me that philosophy which explains 
 our moral faculty and intellect, and I ask not for 
 wealth or fame. I can be useful to my fellow-men. 
 I wish to say a word with regard to the caution you 
 give me concerning a change of sentiments. In the 
 first place, the opinion of the world is but a puff of 
 empty air. Let the world say what it pleases ; truth, 
 and truth unpopular and odious, aye, and that which 
 is stigmatized as heresy and sin, must be sought and 
 professed by the consistent Christian. . . . 
 
 Yours, dear Molly, truly, GEORGE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 . . . My health has been capital ever since my re 
 turn. I have entirely escaped the prevailing influ 
 enza. We have quite study enough to afford agree 
 able excitement without being too much to oppress 
 with its burden. The walking is now very fine, and 
 I spend much time in exercise in the open air. I 
 have been in Boston but little since my return, and, 
 with the exception of a very few friends, I have vis 
 ited but little in Cambridge. I am now writing my 
 second sermon, which I shall preach before the school 
 on Saturday, with the hope that I shall be more suo- 
 tessful than I was at first. 
 
 MY DEAR MOLLY, ... Did you ever see a 
 mill-horse ? Such are we, groaning under Hebrew, 
 Biblical Criticism, Polemics, and Metaphysics, one 
 hard round. No time for the delights of vacation, 
 though 1 have been to one party at Stephen Higgin* 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 25 
 
 son s, Esq., merely out of honor to the Theological 
 
 School, where I saw the incomparable Miss , 
 
 who unfortunately wears a crutch ; and the learned 
 
 Miss , whom they call the Immortal, is here. Do 
 
 you read the " Christian Register " ? I forget whether 
 the Doctor takes it or not. I wish to ask if you have 
 noticed in the two or three last ones some pieces 
 signed " C." There is a very grave and philosophical 
 old gentleman, whom I believe you know, but whose 
 name I would not mention for the world, who has 
 undertaken to enlighten the good readers of that pa 
 per. I hope you will be far from supposing that 
 his gray wig conceals a curly pate, or his sage and 
 sombre reflections a light heart and merry spirit. 
 But the old fellow is sincere. He desired to do good, 
 and he thought it might be best. done by giving some 
 adventitious dignity to the source from which his 
 weighty remarks proceed. It is, moreover, amusing 
 to hear, as this gray-beard walks unseen through our 
 ample halls, and even makes one of our family, his 
 merits discussed, and the question gravely asked if 
 it is not probable that C. means Dr. Channing. But 
 my time is out. If I have told you any secret, which 
 I have not, or given your conjectures any food, which 
 I have, pray be exhorted to keep them to yourself. 
 
 And now I conclude my epistle by beseeching 
 you, lady, to defend me against the righteous indig 
 nation of the Doctor at my unhallowed levity and my 
 till more prancing, undignified, execrable hand writ 
 ing. Scatter my benedictions. Most truly, 
 
 G 
 
26 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 . . . After Mr. Young s ordination, at the New 
 South, I shall make strenuous endeavors to spend the 
 vacation at Greenfield. The president told me the 
 other day, as I suggested in my letter to father, that 
 he might wish me to write for him, but I shall not 
 be easily prevented from spending a part, at least, of 
 my vacation at Greenfield. I do not like the idea of 
 spending a long time without study, as every moment 
 in my present situation is precious. I am not one of 
 those who can write or speak from the inspiration of 
 genius, but all that I do must be the result of my 
 own personal untiring efforts. If I am to be useful 
 as a Christian minister, which is the great object of 
 my present ambition, it is by laying a solid founda 
 tion of deep, critical, theological knowledge, rather 
 than by any attempts at popular eloquence or fine 
 writing. With these views, you cannot wish me to 
 sacrifice my improvement to my pleasure, or even to 
 your gratification. . . . 
 
 I am ever your affectionate son, 
 
 GEORGE R. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, February 5, 1824. 
 
 DEAR MARY, I had a very cold ride from Con 
 cord, and arrived just at dark. Nothing interesting 
 has occurred to diversify the sameness of our routine. 
 We go on from day to day, sleep long and eat tem 
 perately, cut jokes and characters in the same breath, 
 read the newspapers, and talk about Amherst College 
 and the Greeks and the next President and the leveea 
 at Washington. Some books we read, and manj 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 27 
 
 title-pages ; we study and understand some specula 
 tions in philosophy, and dispute about more. There 
 is a fine fund of knowledge floating about in the at 
 mosphere, and in minds which have anything like a 
 chemical affinity for it it lodges ; other minds it poi 
 sons, and makes them pedantic and proud. I am 
 plodding on very leisurely and very stupidly trying 
 to know a little of everything, and a great deal about 
 Theology and Metaphysics, and eke a bird s-eye view 
 of History ; taking care, you may be sure, to solace 
 the interval with sundry vanities in the form of 
 poetry, books, and novels. I went, moreover, last 
 night, to what they call here a select Cambridge party 
 
 at Miss s, where I talked to the ladies and ate 
 
 jellies ; " in sic creature comforts," you know, I de 
 light. After all, such concerns are about as inter 
 esting to me as the " crackling of thorns ; " but we 
 cannot always have substantial hickory, nor yet mount 
 ain oak, and when the thorns blaze merrily I would 
 not refuse to enjoy the brightness, and especially I 
 would not throw myself upon the tiny fire, like a 
 great green log, to quench the flame which can burn 
 but a little hour at best. So I laughed with the gay 
 and sported with the trifling till almost eleven o clock, 
 and came home and turned myself to a dry discussion 
 on the value of Intellectual Philosophy with a clear 
 mind and light heart. So much for my dissipation. 
 
 You asked me to say something about the article 
 in the " Disciple." For myself, I freely confess that 
 I think it a useful thing and correct. The rigor of 
 my orthodoxy, winch is commonly pretty suscepti- 
 
28 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 ble, was not offended. Now, if you have any ob 
 jections which you can accurately and definitely state, 
 no doubt there is something in it which had escaped 
 my notice. If your dislike is only a misty, uncertain 
 feeling about something, you know not what, it were 
 well to get fairly rid of it by the best means. I am 
 far from having any sympathy with the writer of the 
 article, or the school of divines to which he belongs. 
 I believe his views of religion are quite different 
 from Dr. Channing s, whom I place first in the list of 
 Unitarian ministers, and from those clergymen who 
 enter more deeply into the views entertained by Dr. 
 C. and Buckminster, Thatcher, Mr. Frisbie, etc. I 
 do not allude to speculative opinions, but to senti 
 ments connected more with personal, experimental 
 religion. But this topic I must reserve till I see you, 
 and am yours ever, G. R. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, July 18, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER, ... I wish I could give 
 you an idea of the solemnities at Mr. Gannett s or 
 dination, but a description on paper would be so flat 
 and inadequate that I will not attempt it. It was a 
 day of great joy for those who wish to see fervent 
 piety connected with sound doctrine and liberal feel 
 ings. I would, but I cannot, enable you to form a 
 conception of the infantine simplicity and apostolic 
 meekness, united with the eloquence of an angel and 
 spirituality of a sainted mind, which characterize Dr. 
 Channing. His sermon will be printed. 
 
 I send you up Locke s Botany, though I doub 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL, 29 
 
 whether you will find the grapes of Eshcol or the 
 rose of Sharon in your botanical studies. 1 would 
 give much more for the fragrance and richness of a 
 cultivated flower than for an accurate knowledge of 
 the stamens and petals and pistils of all the wild 
 flowers on our western mountains. . . . 
 
 Yours, G RIPLET. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY, November 24^. 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I believe the more ju 
 dicious we become, the less confidence we shall place 
 in some appendage of religion, and the more charity 
 we shall have for others, although we may think 
 widely different from them. In short, true religion 
 is in the heart, and k not connected with any form 
 or any language. . . . 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 10, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I returned yester 
 day from Salem, where I had been attending Mr. 
 Upham s ordination. I can give you no adequate 
 idea of the pleasure of the visit. I would describe 
 the great interest of the occasion, the deep feeling of 
 the society, the enthusiasm excited by the recollec 
 tions connected with this venerable church, the first 
 one established in New England by our Pilgrim Fa 
 thers, the contrast of the present situation with 
 that of the great and good men who, when they had 
 ouilt seven houses in Naumkeag, for so the In- 
 Jians called what is now Salem, erected an eighth, 
 ind consecrated it to the worship pf Almighty God, 
 
80 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 - these associations I would describe ; but it require! 
 more eloquence than I possess to do them justice. 
 
 Mr. Upham s prospects of a happy, useful, and re 
 spectable ministry are indeed brilliant. It is a very 
 religious, intelligent people to whom he ministers. 
 They have been early educated in the fear of God s 
 and as a society beautifully display the pure and 
 lovely fruits of our divine faith. They appear very 
 much to act up to the spirit of the exhortation, " Be 
 loved, let us love one another, for love is of God, and 
 he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God and He in 
 him." There have been some unhappy divisions in 
 the society, but they have terminated in the peace 
 and harmony of the First Church. I went to Salem 
 with Upham on Tuesday, who introduced me to the 
 family of one of his most respectable parishioners, 
 Judge White, where I soon found myself quite at 
 home, and where I stayed with Upham and Mrs. 
 Holmes and several intelligent gentlemen till Thurs 
 day. I was glad to form several acquaintances here 
 with distinguished individuals whom I had long 
 known as public men, but not as private persons : for 
 instance, the venerable Timothy Pickering, whom I 
 suppose my father reveres as the apostle of Federal 
 ism, a most delightful old man, with all the simplic 
 ity and modesty of a child ; John Pickering, the best 
 Greek scholar in New England ; Dr. Bowditch ; and 
 last, not least, Dr. Channing, whom I never before 
 met. I say nothing of several merchants, who a good 
 deal interested me by their liberality and wide view* 
 and charming manners, for were I to particularly moo 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 81 
 
 tion them I could not tell when to begin or when to 
 stop. The religious exercises were solemn and im 
 pressive, especially the prayers of Drs. Channing 
 and Sewell, which were enough to excite devotion 
 in a heart of stone. I saw Mr. Peabody at Judge 
 Whit e s, who tells me that there is a prospect of es 
 tablishing a liberal society at Northampton. Pray, 
 have you read the correspondence of the people and 
 Mr. Tucker ? I am no partisan of any sect, but I 
 must rejoice in seeing any progress towards the con 
 viction that Christianity is indeed " glad tidings of 
 great joy" and that in its original purity it was a 
 very different thing from the system that is popu 
 larly preached, and which is still received as reason 
 able and scriptural by men and women who in other 
 respects are sensible and correct in their judgments. 
 When shall we learn that without the spirit of Christ 
 we are none of his ? ... 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, May 4, 1825. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... The prospects of pro 
 fessional success and usefulness appear brighter every 
 day. There is an unexampled call from all parts of 
 the country for our students, and a disposition mani 
 fested to hear what we consider more useful and 
 practical, if not more able preaching than can else 
 where be obtained. For my own part, I am more 
 and more grateful to a kind Providence which di 
 rected me to Cambridge, where I have learned those 
 views of religion at once so attractive and lovely, so 
 iimple, scriptural, and reasonable, affording such 
 taotives to holiness, such consolation in sorrow, such 
 
32 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 hope in death. I trust I am not becoming a partisan 
 nor a bigot. I have suffered enough, and too much, in 
 sustaining those characters, in earlier, more inexpe 
 rienced, and more ignorant years ; but I have no pros 
 pects of earthly happiness more inviting than that of 
 preaching the truth, with the humble hope of being 
 instrumental in impressing it on the mind with 
 greater force, purity, and effect than I could do with 
 any other than my present conviction. I feel bound 
 to my profession, so much so that you will not be 
 surprised when I inform you that I deemed it right 
 to decline the appointment of mathematical tutor, 
 with an emolument of $700, which was recently of 
 fered me. I presume and hope that none of my 
 friends can regret what may appear at first as a pe 
 cuniary sacrifice, but what a broad view of the future 
 clearly convinces me was necessary, and ultimately 
 can be of no disadvantage. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, December 6, 1825. 
 
 DEAR MARIANNE, I am now very pleasantly 
 situated and delightfully employed, with responsible 
 and difficult labor enough to keep me thoughtful and 
 awake, and intervals of rest to show me that the 
 relaxation purchased by fatigue is by far the best 
 Father will think my habits are somewhat improving 
 when he hears that I rise two hours before the SUD 
 these cold mornings, and never sleep between-whiie. 
 T am very glad that I accepted the office I am in, as 
 .*t does not interfere with my professional views, and 
 gives me the consciousness that, instead of being a 
 
ENGAGEMENT. 33 
 
 burden to others I am making myself useful, and in 
 stead of being dependent I am earning my bread 
 actually by the sweat of my brow, and it gives me 
 the prospect, at the end of the year, of having laid 
 up in this world s goods a handsome store, for a boy. 
 Still I had rather by far preach, which I hope I shall 
 soon be able to do. We have a fortnight s vaca 
 tion at Christmas, a,t which time I intend to " come 
 home," though I do most heartily abhor the process 
 of riding a hundred miles a day in a stage-coach. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, May 3, 1826. 
 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, ... I could have 
 wished, for more reasons than one, that mother might 
 find it in her heart to accompany father, as her 
 Boston friends are very desirous to see her, as the 
 journey might benefit her health, and as I myself 
 have various matters of grave import, which it would 
 gratify me to hear her discourse upon with her moth 
 erly wisdom and sympathy. What these matters are 
 you perhaps can conjecture. I shall not unfold them 
 until I am brought, in the gradual progress of events, 
 unto this page of my letter. Well, I have come to 
 this point. In your last letter you asked me what 
 were my prospects on the subject which was nearest 
 to my earthly happiness ; then, I should have an- 
 Bwered, all was black darkness. Now, my dearest 
 Marianne, by a most unexpected train of events, the 
 obstacles to our affection are removed ; a just regard 
 to prudence does not forbid us to cherish an attach 
 ment which has long been the secret idol of our 
 
 3 
 
34 GEORGE RIPLE7. 
 
 hearts ; and yesterday our circle of dear friends were 
 edified by the intelligence of a new engagement! 
 The details of all this I shall hereafter explain. 
 You will know this being whose influence over me 
 for the year past has so much elevated, strengthened, 
 and refined my character. You will entirely sym 
 pathize with me. I cannot now write to my parents, 
 who, I am sure, cannot disapprove the step I have 
 taken, when you expound to them all the circum 
 stances, which I wish you to do as copiously as you 
 can. The whole matter meets with the most sur 
 prising approbation and sympathy from the whole 
 society of Cambridge. The most just, proper, nat 
 ural, fit, reasonable, delightful connection, say they, 
 that has been known for a long time. My father 
 may, perhaps, think that it would have been more 
 prudent for me to have deferred this consummation 
 until my prospects in an uncertain and trying pro 
 fession were more definite. To this I have to say, 
 my wisest friends assert that my prospects of pro 
 fessional success, in the highest sense of the term, 
 are tolerably fair, so much so as entirely to justify 
 this arrangement. What can be depended upon still 
 more, I say myself that for nine years I have relied 
 upon the blessing of a kind Providence given to my 
 own personal, active, patient efforts. In this I have 
 not been disappointed, and it is the course which I 
 fully intend to pursue. It has never been my wish, 
 you all know, to be a rich man, nor what the world 
 calls a great man, but to be a respected, useful, and 
 happy man. And this connection, which is founded 
 
ORDINATION. 35 
 
 not upon any romantic or sudden passion, but upon 
 great respect for intellectual power, moral worth, 
 deep and true Christian piety, and peculiar refine 
 ment and dignity of character, promises, I think, to 
 advance me in the best way in this life, and to aid 
 me, above all, in the great end of life, the prepara 
 tion for heaven. My mother will recollect her great 
 admiration of Dr. Jackson. You will inform her 
 how deeply he is interested, how valuable his friend 
 ship, how paternal his advice. 
 
 Truly your own brother, GEORGE. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, August 25, 1826. 
 
 Mr DEAR MARIANNE, I received a letter from 
 you, a singular rarity, which I fully believe I 
 answered soon after the occurrence of the auspicious 
 event ; but as 1 have had no returns from Green 
 field, a slight suspicion glances over my mind that 
 instead of actually replying to your letter I mistook 
 the will for the deed. Is it so ? ... I begin to 
 preach at Purchase Street on the next Lord s Day ; 
 I have then an invitation to renew my engagement 
 at Chauncy Place for an indefinite time ; and lastly, 
 a Macedonian cry is heard from Baltimore, " Come 
 over and help us," to which I do not turn the deaf ad 
 der s ear, but partially engage to spend some weeks of 
 the winter in that benighted city. I wash my hands 
 of this college on the first day of October next ; and 
 hope from that time to eschew the delightful task of 
 iirecting the young idea in all its various ramifica 
 tions, and to turn my attention to the nobler labor 
 
36 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 of influencing grown men on the most important 
 subjects. . . . 
 
 On his leaving Cambridge, in 1826, he was 
 at once ordained pastor of a Unitarian society 
 gathered expressly for him in what was then a 
 respectable part of Boston. The new meeting 
 house at the corner of Purchase and Pearl 
 Streets, near Griffin s Wharf, where the tea- 
 ships lay in the old time, was built for its use. 
 It was a remarkably unattractive structure of 
 stone, with a small belfry on the top. The in 
 side was as homely as the outside. It was ca 
 pable of holding about three hundred people. 
 The corner-stone was laid on the 7th of Sep 
 tember, 1825. On that occasion Henry Ware 
 delivered an address, in which he described the 
 building to be erected as " not magnificent, but 
 simple and unostentatious like the faith to which 
 it is devoted ; " spoke of " the great principles 
 of the Reformation," "the right of private judg 
 ment," and added, "No articles of faith shall 
 call in question the sufficiency of the Script 
 ures ; " " Our platform is as wide and generous 
 as the spirit of our religion itself ; " " If it were 
 possible in this disturbed day, we could long 
 and hope that here might be neutral ground. 
 The day [for this] is coming at length." In 
 conclusion he said: "Where the heavens now 
 swell above us, declaring their Maker s glory. 
 
TEE CORNER-STONE. 37 
 
 shall soon be interposed a roof of human work 
 manship, beneath which shall be declared the 
 brighter glory of his redeeming love. We shall 
 intercept the light of yonder sun, whose beams 
 shall no more fall upon this floor ; but the more 
 reviving beams of the Sun of Righteousness 
 shall rest there without a cloud. The dews of 
 night shall come down upon this spot no more, 
 and the winds of the ocean shall henceforth be 
 excluded ; but the dews of divine grace, as we 
 trust, shall plenteously visit it, and the gentle 
 breathings of the Holy Spirit shall never cease 
 to shed upon it life and peace ; and from this 
 place, where now, perhaps, for the first time, 
 the voice of Christian worship has ascended to 
 heaven, there shall forever go up, to the end of 
 time, incense and a pure offering from multi 
 tudes of humble and believing hearts. Let us 
 go hence with this persuasion." 
 
 Ah, how short is the keenest human vision I 
 The multitude never came ; the " respectable 
 people gradually left that quarter of the town, 
 which was rapidly occupied by the dwellers 
 in tenement houses. In less than twenty-five 
 years the building was sold to the Catholics for 
 thirty thousand dollars ; the fire of 1872 swept 
 it away, and now nothing remains of the church 
 BO hopefully planted. The leather interest has 
 taken possession of the site so poetically dedi 
 
38 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 cated to the uses of religion, and the visitor in 
 that region recalls the words addressed to Shy- 
 lock in the well known trial scene, " Not on thy 
 soul, but on thy sole." 
 
 The dedication took place August 24, 1826 ; 
 the ordination followed on the 8th of Novem 
 ber. It is evidence of the promise of the new 
 ministry that the president of Harvard College, 
 Dr. Kirkland, preached the sermon ; that Dr. 
 Lowell made the prayer of ordination ; that 
 Dr. Ware gave the charge. The other clergy 
 men officiating, Alexander Young and Ezra S. 
 Gannett, were then less known. The young 
 pastor began his career under brave though 
 "conservative" auspices. 
 
 BOSTON, November 26, 1826. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, ... I am just beginning 
 to feel at home in my new habitation in Williams 
 Street, and on many accounts I find it a most desira 
 ble situation. The family are everything that I could 
 wish, and are more devoted to the task of making 
 me comfortable than one could expect from strangers. 
 I am in a very central spot, not far from my church, 
 in the midst of my people, contiguous to all my j 
 haunts, such as the Athenaeum, bookstores, etc., and 
 at the same time it is quiet and retired as the coun 
 try ; and I can sit and study, near indeed to the busy 
 world, but undisturbed by its noise, and almost, 1 
 might say, out of the reach of its temptations. My 
 
MINISTRY. 39 
 
 rooms are pleasant, and furnished in a style of simple 
 neatness, which is as agreeable to my feelings as it is 
 to my circumstances. . . 
 
 I have become acquainted with several families in 
 my society, and am better pleased than I at first ex 
 pected. They are chiefly from the middling classes 
 of society, but I have not yet learned that intelligence 
 and piety are confined to any one class. I am sure 
 of this, that what little experience I have had in the 
 more elevated walks will not here be lost, and 1 
 trust I may be able to communicate some good influ 
 ence from the habits of feeling which prevail in a dif 
 ferent sphere. I am pretty well satisfied that I shall 
 be happier in the city than I could ever be in the 
 country. I have access to sources of improvement 
 and enjoyment here which I could not have else 
 where, and without which I should feel that some 
 thing important was wanting. My people are partic 
 ularly kind to me, and seem disposed to receive all 
 my attempts to move them with real indulgence. I 
 shall try not to be unworthy of their good-will. My 
 health is excellent, and I hope I shall be able to pre 
 serve it without much difficulty. I find that preach 
 ing agrees with my constitution, and on Monday 
 morning I am as free from fatigue as if I had been 
 jdle the day before. Affectionately your son, 
 
 G. RIPLET. 
 
 BOSTON, January 9, 1827. 
 
 . . . My hands are full of labor, and my heart with 
 cares for my own people, who, although a little band. 
 
40 GEORGE R1PLET. 
 
 demand a great deal of my time and all of my atten 
 tion. There is a great attention to leligion at this 
 moment throughout the city, and I feel it a bounden 
 duty to do what I can to promote it, and to direct the 
 excitement into a proper channel. I administered 
 the communion for the first time yesterday, and ad 
 mitted nine to my church, for some of whom I feel a 
 peculiar interest, as they have been led to the step 
 under the influence of my preaching. I am gratified 
 at the serious impressions I find produced, because 
 they assure me of the adaptation of rational religion 
 to the needs and sorrows of all conditions of men. 
 It has been reproached as a faith merely for men of 
 intellect and taste. It is so, but it also speaks loudly 
 to the poor and uneducated, as I have had ample 
 proof. 
 
 BOSTON, February 14, 1827. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, I have little to say about 
 myself but that I am quietly peering about the streets 
 and lanes of the city, dropping the good seeds of Chris 
 tian truth wherever I find a prepared mind, and once 
 a week enforcing what I say in private by a more 
 elaborate argument in public. My society is growing 
 tranquilly by my side. It is now quite an infant, and 
 needs gentle nursing, but I hope it will live and ad 
 vance to the stature of a perfect man. 
 
 Yours affectionately, G. R. 
 
 Later in this year Mr. Ripley was married to 
 the lady referred to in the letters, Miss Sophia 
 Willard Dana, daughter of Francis Dana, ol 
 
MARRIAGE. 41 
 
 Cambridge, and from that time lived in what ia 
 now Chauncy Street. The union was an ex* 
 ceedingly happy one, a union of mind and heart , 
 spoken of by one who knew them both as " an 
 ideal union." There was entire sympathy in 
 all things. 
 
 These were the palmy days of Unitarianism. 
 Societies were formed in different parts of the 
 city; meeting-houses were built; money was 
 raised ; missionaries were employed. In that de 
 cade the "Ministry at Large" established three 
 chapels: one in Warren Street, one in Pitts 
 Street, and one in Suffolk Street. Dr. Chan- 
 ning, assisted by Mr. Gannett, was preaching 
 in Federal Street; Henry Ware in Hanover 
 Street, F. W. P. Greenwood at King s Chapel 
 J. G. Palfrey in Brattle Street, Francis Park- 
 man in Hanover Street, Alexander Young in 
 Summer Street, John Pierpont in Hollis Street, 
 Charles Lowell in Lynde Street, Samuel Bar 
 rett in Chambers Street, N. L. Frothingham in 
 Chauncy Place, M. I. Motte in Washington 
 Street ; James Walker was at Charlestown, Ca 
 leb Stetson was at Medford, John Pierce was at 
 Brookline. 
 
 Unitarianism had but recently become aware 
 of its existence as a distinct form of the Prot 
 estant faith. The habit of free inquiry, once 
 mrmed, went steadily but silently on, quea- 
 
42 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 tioning doctrines, criticising texts, examining 
 grounds of belief, disputing fundamental dog 
 mas, till, unconsciously, the whole position was 
 altered. The records of the First Church in 
 Boston, now more than two hundred and fifty 
 years old, nowhere intimate that its harmony 
 was disturbed ; its members chose pastors from 
 generation to generation without the least diffi 
 culty on the score of doctrinal belief, though its 
 actual minister was one of the foremost teachers 
 of the so-called " Liberal " school. Mr. Chan- 
 ning s celebrated sermon at the ordination of 
 Jared Sparks in Baltimore was preached in 
 1819. The discussion began immediately after, 
 
 Channing taking issue with Dr. Miller of 
 Princeton, Norton standing up against Moses 
 Stuart on the question between unity and trin 
 ity, Ware facing Dr. Woods as an assailant of 
 the dogmas of Calvinism. 
 
 The Unitarianism of the period we are con- 
 Bid ering was a dignified form of Christianity, 
 sober, thoughtful, serious. It was the religion 
 of the most intellectual men in the community, 
 
 men like Judge Shaw, Judge Story, Judge 
 White, who clung to Christianity with the 
 tenacious hold of an honest reverence and a 
 strong conviction. Its historical foundations 
 they regarded as established ; its founder they 
 revered as a miraculously authenticated teach 
 
UNITARIANISM. 43 
 
 er; they cherished a sentiment of deep rational 
 piety, principles of strict personal morality, and 
 a remarkably high standard of public virtue. 
 They knew nothing of theological subtleties or 
 critical refinements. Here and there a preacher 
 laid vehement stress on points of controversial 
 theology ; now and then a congregation was 
 asked to listen more often than was necessary 
 to prosaic homilies on texts of Scripture, or to 
 discourses on personal morals ; but in the main 
 the style of pulpit administration was devout 
 and spiritual. " Sensational " sermons were 
 not in vogue ; a quiet, even strain of public 
 speech, manly and elevating, prevailed. The 
 " water of life," if cold, was pure ; if not spark 
 ling, it was fresh. There was no fanaticism, 
 little enthusiasm ; but of superstition there was 
 absolutely none. Both ministers and people 
 were persuaded that they could give a reason 
 for the faith that was in them and out of them. 
 Rational they may have been, to a fault. They 
 had lost the sense of mystery ; they put thought 
 before feeling ; substituted sight for insight ; 
 Bet knowledge in advance of faith. But they 
 were high-minded, full of fear toward God and 
 of love toward the Saviour. They read their 
 Bibles with reverence, said their prayers morn 
 ing and evening, and kept holy the Lord s Day. 
 The spirit of skepticism was not in them. Of 
 
44 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 " philosophy," whether German, French, or 
 English, they were as innocent as new-born 
 babes. In their view the clerical profession waa 
 exalted above all others ; the minister was a 
 man set apart. They had not fairly begun to 
 express dissatisfaction with the regular dispen 
 sation of the Word. The modern spirit of in 
 dividualism, which so often arrays the pew 
 against the pulpit, had not risen to its present 
 stature. Occasional murmurings were heard 
 against this preacher because he did not "draw;" 
 against that one because he was inattentive in 
 the way of parish calls ; against a third because 
 he was too young, or too flowery, or too heed 
 less of the proprieties, or too unattractive to 
 those who wore the first-class bonnets, the red 
 caps, or the white wigs : but, on the whole, so 
 cieties were docile. There was no schism and 
 no threat of schism in the body. Theodore 
 Parker s disturbing sermon at South Boston 
 was not preached till 1841 ; and even that was 
 heard without alarm. Mr. Emerson left the 
 ministry in 1832, because he could not admin 
 ister the rite of communion. So unsuspecting 
 of danger were the leaders of the sect that in 
 1834 the Association printed as a tract James 
 Walker s admirable address, entitled " The Phi 
 losophy of Man s Spiritual Nature in regard to 
 the Foundations of Faith," in which doctrineg 
 
PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 45 
 
 :> a "transcendental" complexion were ad 
 vanced. The " Liberal" movement had not 
 entered on its third stage when George Ripley 
 was ordained. 
 
 He was no unbeliever, no skeptic, no inno 
 vator in matters of opinion or observance, but 
 a quiet student, a scholar, a man of books, a 
 calm, bright-minded, high-souled thinker ; be 
 lieving, hopeful, social, sunny, but absorbed in 
 philosophical pursuits. Well does the writer of 
 these lines recall the vision of a slender figure, 
 wearing in summer the flowing silk robe, in 
 winter the long dark blue cloak, of the profes 
 sion, walking with measured step from his resi 
 dence in Howe Place towards the meeting-house 
 in Purchase Street. The face was shaven clean ; 
 the brown hair curled in close, crisp ringlets ; 
 the face was pale as if with thought ; gold- 
 rimmed spectacles concealed the black eyes ; the 
 head was alternately bent and raised. No one 
 could have guessed that the man had in him the 
 fund of humor in which his friends delighted, 
 or the heroism in social reform which, a few 
 years later, amazed the community. He seemed 
 a sober, devoted minister of the gospel, formal, 
 punctilious, ascetic, a trifle forbidding to the 
 stranger. But even then the new thoughts of 
 the age were at work within him. 
 
 On the fly-leaf of his commonplace book Mil- 
 
46 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 ton, Cicero, and Bacon are quoted in praise of 
 philosophy, Bacon s language being given 
 with emphasis : " Life without pursuit is a vague 
 and languid thing." " Cicero gives it as a high 
 commendation to Cato that he embraced phi 
 losophy, not for the purpose of disputing, as 
 most do, but of living philosophically." He 
 had a remarkably fine library, containing many 
 French and German books: much of Kant, 
 Schleiermacher, Herder, De Wette, Cousin, 
 Jouffroy ; something of Hegel ; Schopenhauer s 
 "Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung " (1819) ; 
 the latest known volumes of biblical criticism ; 
 Paulus, Bauer, Tholuck, Liicke ; Bertholdt s 
 " Einleitung," Winer s " Handbuch der Theo- 
 logischen Literatur," Bretschneider, Ammon, 
 Reinhard, Ritter ; histories of philosophy, both 
 general and special ; Constant, Vico, Fichte, 
 Cabanis, Eichhorn; a few books, now forgotten, 
 about the origin of Christianity ; a little of Goe 
 the and Schiller, Luther s Werke, Baumgarten- 
 Crusius; Heydenreich s " Betrachtungen," and 
 "Natur und Gott, nach Spinoza," Wieland a 
 44 Ueber Wunder, Gfrorer s " Giordano Bruno," 
 and miscellaneous works in morals and philoso 
 phy. Some of his books were imported, but 
 many of them were brought from abroad by a 
 young American, who studied divinity at Cam 
 bridge, became an enthusiastic disciple of Dr 
 
PREACHING. 47 
 
 Spurzheim, went to Germany to study anatomy, 
 lost his Christian faith, returned to America, 
 bringing a library with him, and, while still 
 comparatively young, died in Boston. Mr. Rip- 
 ley studied his books faithfully, and made his 
 reading enrich his mind. None of the critical 
 or metaphysical lore got into his sermons, which 
 were simple, clear, calm, systematic, not elo 
 quent, but pervaded by a keen, lambent light, 
 and in passages animated by a singular intel 
 lectual glow, as of an aurora borealis. Two or 
 three remain to us in manuscript. They breathe 
 and convey the air of the new ideas, but are 
 wholly destitute of controversial heat, and be 
 tray no sign of the existence of a different phi 
 losophy from his own. One of them, preached 
 in 1837, entitled " Common Sense in the Affairs 
 of Religion " (marked 419), assumes the pres 
 ence of a universal sentiment which guides men 
 through the devious ways of faith, and delivers, 
 or should deliver, them from the dangers that 
 lurk in the path ; securing to them unanimity 
 in opinion, liberty of conscience, a spirit of as 
 piration and progress, and a prevailing interest 
 in spiritual things. The discourse ends with a 
 noble strain of appeal in behalf of freedom in 
 thought and life. Another sermon, on " Jesus 
 Christ, the same Yesterday, To-day, and For 
 ever," contends that the history of man is a 
 
48 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 religious history ; that religious truths always 
 have existed ; that " the religious ideas which 
 were set forth by Jesus Christ, as they had 
 been displayed before in other forms, still ex 
 ert an efficient influence on the soul of man ; " 
 that, in their essential form, they will never 
 cease to influence human souls. This was a 
 favorite sermon. First preached in 1834, it 
 was repeated in 1839, delivered nine or ten 
 times to other congregations, given twice on 
 Christmas occasions, once at an installation, 
 once at O. A. Brownson s. It contains the sub 
 stance of Theodore Parker s sermon on the 
 " Transient and Permanent in Christianity," 
 but stated so luminously, persuasively, and in 
 such uncritical terms as to awaken no dissent. 
 It was the word of a hearty believer, uncon 
 cerned with the thankless task of denying, 
 which was laid on the reformer of Spring Street. 
 George Ripley was a disciple of the intuitive 
 philosophy then coming into authority among 
 liberal scholars in Europe and America. The phi 
 losophy called " transcendental," which claimed 
 "or human nature a spiritual faculty, by virtue 
 cf which truths of the spiritual order could be 
 clearly discerned, was coming into favor. The 
 assumption was precisely the opposite to that 
 Bet up by theologians who maintained that spir 
 itual knowledge came from above by speciaj 
 
TRANSCENDENTALISM. 49 
 
 grace, and was bestowed on believers as a sign 
 of their redemption from the thraldom of the 
 natural mind. That debased humanity ; this 
 exalted it. That regarded man as depraved ; 
 this regarded him as puissant. That classed 
 human beings with the creatures of sin ; this 
 ranked them with the angels. Transcendental 
 ism, in its full form, was a deification of Nature 
 But with its earliest teachers and prophets 
 Channing, Emerson, Walker, Ripley, Parker 
 it signified merely a new, broad, ideal faith, un- 
 sectarian, spiritual, earnest. George Ripley be 
 lieved, without misgiving, in religion as a gift 
 from heaven, and in Christianity as a divine 
 communication to man. In the discourse to 
 which reference has just been made, he says : 
 " We can have no doubt that religion will al 
 ways be perpetuated by the same causes which 
 first gave it existence. We regard it as an ema 
 nation from the Eternal Mind." " These attri 
 butes [eternity, unchangeableness] are applied 
 to our Saviour, because his mind was so filled 
 and penetrated with the power of religious truth 
 as to be identical with it as existing in the Di 
 vine Mind, as to be the Truth, as well as the 
 way and the life." He constantly calls Christ 
 " Saviour," speaking of him with deepest rev 
 erence as the highest of all the soul s proph 
 ets. His views on the subject ^f inspiration, 
 4 
 
) GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 then beginning to agitate the thinking world, 
 are expressed with clearness and candor in the 
 remarkable review of Martineau s "Rationale 
 of Religious Inquiry," published in the " Chris 
 tian Examiner " for November, 1836, the 
 same year, it may be observed, in which appeared 
 the first volume of Norton s "Genuineness of the 
 Gospels," and Furness s " Remarks on the Four 
 Gospels." His position is that " necessary and 
 universal truths " are divinely implanted in 
 man s spiritual constitution, like the axioms of 
 geometry, intuitively recognized as true. Touch 
 ing Christ, he writes : " His soul was a sea of 
 light. All that was human in the Son of the 
 Virgin ; all that belonged to his personality as 
 a Jewish teacher ; all that marks the secondary, 
 derived, and fallible in the nature of man, aa 
 distinguished from the primitive, the infallible, 
 and divine, was swallowed up, and, as it were, 
 annihilated in the fullness of the Spirit which 
 dwelt in him, in those kingly ideas of Truth and 
 Good which sustain the authority of the Eter 
 nal Throne, and authenticated the man of Naz 
 areth as the Son of God, the visible tabernacle 
 of the Word which was made flesh and dwelt 
 among us." 
 
 These would be accepted now as moderate 
 opinions, though when spoken they were pro 
 nounced dangerous. How far they were altered 
 
TRANSCENDENTALISM. 51 
 
 or dropped in after life it would not be quite 
 safe to say. The philosophical basis on which 
 they rested remained unmoved to the end, as 
 his papers in the " Tribune," especially his re 
 view of Bascom s " Comparative Psychology," 
 will bear witness. In the summer of 1878 he 
 read with great interest Hartmann s "Philos 
 ophy of the Unconscious," making notes as he 
 read. These notes contain evidence, less in the 
 form of actual expression than in the selection 
 of passages quoted, of his^adherence to the intu 
 itive system of thought. He was in no sense 
 or degree a materialist, and, though connecting 
 himself with an independent society of a decid 
 edly radical school, he held fast his faith in be 
 liefs which his minister dismissed. His appeal 
 was still to consciousness and the soul. Of doc 
 trines he had little to say, being content to see 
 them change and pass away, but the substance 
 of spiritual conviction he retained to the last. 
 
 Mr. Ripley called himself a child of Chan- 
 ning, and so he was in the sense of sharing his 
 essential views. Chan ning, too, was accused of 
 rash speculation," perhaps because he would 
 atter words like the following : " We believe 
 that the human mind is akin to that intellectual 
 energy which gave birth to nature, and conse 
 quently that it contains within itself the sem 
 inal and prolific principles from which nat- 
 
52 GEORGE RIP LET, 
 
 ure sprung." l A child of that great spiritual 
 prophet that sayer of thoughts which ex 
 pressed the spirit of his age, and stirred the 
 souls of men on either side of the Atlantic Ocean 
 he certainly was not. He was lacking in the 
 gift of thrilling speech. His convictions did not 
 fall glowing from his lips. His ideas, though 
 clear, cogent, and earnestly put forth, did no 
 execution. In a small room, among personal 
 friends, on his own themes, and following his 
 own impulse, he was eloquent, persuasive, en 
 chanting ; but in a meeting-house, on a formal 
 occasion, before a mixed audience, on imper 
 sonal subjects, he was unimpassioned, almost 
 cold. He must have his hearer within arm s 
 length ; then his full power was felt. Indi 
 vidually his parishioners were much attached 
 to him. They found him delightful in their 
 homes ; a true friend, sympathetic and consol 
 ing, more than ready in all cases of need with 
 counsel and assistance. For many years after 
 his ministry ceased, those who had known him 
 as a pastor spoke of him with a depth of affec 
 tion which nothing but faithful service could 
 justify or explain. A few still live to speak 
 tender words in his memory. 
 
 There is an impression abroad that Mr. Rip- 
 ley was an uninteresting preacher, but such waa 
 
 1 Sermons, 1830, 8vo, p. 189. 
 
PREACHING. 63 
 
 not the universal opinion. During a visit to 
 Ohio in 1838, his discourses, especially those 
 which he delivered without notes, excited great 
 enthusiasm. Men of mark flocked about him, 
 urged him to prolong his stay with them, spoke 
 of his sermons as the finest they had ever list 
 ened to. One man, the agent of a canal com 
 pany, sent travelling passes to him and his wife. 
 Another expressed his willingness to subscribe 
 handsomely for the maintenance of such an ad 
 ministration of religion. Like many men, he 
 felt the influence of new people and places, and 
 spoke most winningly when " off duty/ 
 
 He was often called on to perform services 
 for friends in the ministry. At the ordination 
 of J. S. Dwight, at Northampton (May 20 
 1840), he preached on the " Claims of the Age 
 on the Work of the Evangelist," saying, in the 
 course of the sermon (it was on the eve of the 
 Brook Farm experiment), "The true work of 
 the evangelist at the present day is to bring the 
 religion of society into accordance with the re 
 ligion of Christ." In 1837 he presented tha 
 fellowship of the churches to his young friend 
 Theodore Parker. On the 4th of July, 1839, 
 he offered prayer at the public celebration in 
 the Odeon. He was constant in his attendance 
 at the ministers meetings, and on all occasions 
 of discussion or of conversation, in which mat- 
 
54 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 ters of social, philosophical, or religious concern 
 were brought up. At such times he was always 
 listened to with interest, and easily held his 
 own among eloquent, wise, instructed men. 
 None were brighter, wittier, heartier, or more 
 suggestive than he, always frank, always spark 
 ling. He was a member of the first transcend- 
 ental coterie that met in Cambridge, the nu 
 cleus of all future organizations. 
 
 The first meeting of the Transcendental Club 
 was at his house, on the 19th of September, 
 1836. There were present, beside the host, R. 
 W. Emerson, F. H. Hedge, C. Francis, J. F. 
 Clarke, and A. B. Alcott. It was a preliminary 
 meeting, to see how far it might be possible for 
 earnest minds to meet and communicate their 
 thoughts without formality. At the second 
 meeting, O. A. Brownson and C. A. Bartol 
 were present. At that time theology was a 
 theme of general interest and discussion. Dr. 
 Beecher, Andrews Norton, Dr. Channing, were 
 names on all lips. Mr. Emerson, in December, 
 gave the first of a series of lectures in Boston, 
 the subjects being "History," "Art," "Sci 
 ence," "Literature," "Politics," "Religion," 
 " Society," " Trades and Professions," " Man 
 ners," " Ethics," " The Present Age " (two leci> 
 ures). In 1837, Caleb Stetson, Theodore Par- 
 ker, Margaret Fuller (who came to Boston ta 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL CLUB. 55 
 
 reside in 1836), and Elizabeth Peabody, were 
 added to the club ; later, Thomas T. Stone 
 joined it. It is worth noting that the Massa 
 chusetts Board of Education was established al 
 most contemporaneously with the club. At the 
 meetings, Mr. Emerson was usually present; 
 Mr. Hedge, too, before he went to Bangor. 
 The topics debated turned on a few central 
 ideas: Law, Truth, Individuality, the Person 
 ality of God. The last point came up in con 
 nection with matters pertaining to Theology, 
 Revelation, Inspiration, Providence. An ex 
 treme reaction from Puritan conceptions set in, 
 leading some to the verge of pantheism, and to 
 a belief in the sufficiency of the human mind 
 to itself, in all emergencies. The conversation 
 was at all times earnest and elevated, though 
 there was warm discussion over some of the 
 views submitted. 
 
 Theodore Parker describes Mr. Ripley at this 
 time as discussing, along with DR Channing, 
 u with great power of thought and richness of 
 eloquence," the question of the progress of civ 
 ilization. " Had the con^gsation of this even- 
 Ing," he records, " been written out by Plato, it 
 would equal any of his beautiful dialogues." 
 The conversation referred to was held in the 
 rooms of Mr. Jonathan Phillips, at the Tremont 
 House. At a subsequent meeting Mr. Ripley 
 
56 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 is instanced as taking exception to the imper 
 sonal conception of God put forth by Mr. Ein- 
 erson in a remarkable lecture. This was in 
 February, 1838. Theodore Parker was intro 
 duced to Mr. Ripley by his classmate, George 
 E. Ellis. An intimacy grew up which continued 
 close till Parker s death, though their ministe 
 rial connection was short. } The two were drawn 
 together by a deeply rooted sympathy in phil 
 osophical ideas, by a common philanthropical 
 aim, and by an irrepressible buoyancy of spirit. 
 They walked and talked by the day. In 1838, 
 in the early time of Parker s ministry, Ripley 
 and his wife spent a week with him at West 
 Roxbury. The visit was remembered fondly 
 many years afterward. " We were full of joy 
 and laughter all the time of their visit." When 
 lying ill in Boston, after a surgical operation, 
 Parker wrote, November 1, 1858 : " Many thanks 
 for your friendship, which never fails. If we 
 could lie under the great oak-tree at West Rox- 
 bury, or ride about its wild little lanes together, 
 I should soon be entirely well, for the vigor 
 of your mind would inspire strength even into 
 my body. But I must do without that, only 
 too thankful to have had it once." Almost 
 ft year later, January 10, 1859, the mortally 
 sick man wrote in pencil from his bed in Exe 
 ter Place : " Many thanks, my dear George, to 
 
THEODORE PARKER. 57 
 
 you. I never told you the service you rendered 
 me in 1836 and so on. Your words of advice, 
 of profound philosophic thought, and still more, 
 of lofty cheer, did me great good. I count your 
 friendship as one of the brightest spots in my 
 life, which has had a deal of handsome sun 
 shine. God bless you." 
 
 They were very different men. One was en 
 grossed in books ; the other was full of action. 
 One was contemplative, quiet, thoughtful ; the 
 other was impetuous. One was silent ; the 
 other was outspoken. One was cautious to the 
 verge of timidity ; the other was bold to the 
 verge of rashness. One was a thinker, taking 
 no part in agitation, political or social ; the other 
 was a reformer, eager to apply his ideas to laws 
 and institutions. But their faith in one an 
 other was constant. The following letters show 
 how Parker s love was reciprocated. 
 
 TRIBUNE OFFICE, N. Y., February 28, 1856. 
 MY DEAR THEODORE, The new edition of your 
 brave book came to hand yesterday, and need I say 
 your friendly and tender words did not fail to touch 
 my heart. Certain it is that from my first acquaint 
 ance with you, my sympathy was won by your ro 
 bust devotion to truth, and your cordial, overflowing 
 geniality ; but that you could have ever received any 
 encouragement in your lofty career from one so dis 
 tant from your orbit, would be incredible to those 
 
58 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 who did not know that you combine a woman s soft 
 ness of feeling with your manly " heart of oak." But 
 let that be as it may, our friendship has weathered 
 many a winter and summer, and only grown brighter 
 from the test of time ; and it is always a pleasant 
 thought to me when I reflect on how little I have 
 brought to pass for my day and generation, that at 
 least I have been loyal to the principles of truth and 
 freedom, which have ripened in you to such a bounti 
 ful harvest of accomplishment. I can sincerely say 
 that I rejoice in your success as if it had been my 
 own ; and perhaps you will not deem it strange if I 
 tell you how perpetually grateful I am to you for 
 presenting to the world an example of a true man, in 
 the midst of the dwarfs, mountebanks, satyrs, and 
 monkeys, which make modern society so mean and 
 false and hollow and repulsive. 
 
 I have scarcely looked into your volume, and 
 probably should not find my ancient interest in its 
 contents. I cannot digest any religion but the wor 
 ship of the Eternal Word, as expounded in many 
 * colloquies divine " with you ; but how little man is 
 prepared for such a pure faith, I am too deeply sensi 
 ble. Still, if the world is not an audacious " quiz of 
 nature," as Emerson holds, I think all creeds must 
 ultimately be merged in this " positive," or, as you 
 Vould say, " absolute " religion. 
 
 I depend on seeing you next week, and presume 
 our hospitable and reverential Brace has a breakfast 
 in contemplation. 
 
 Good-by, and believe me ever faithfully yours, 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
F. P. COBBE. 59 
 
 OFFICE OF THE N. Y. TRIBUNE, October 25, 1858, 
 MY DEAR THEODORE, I truly rejoice that you 
 are able to report so good an account of yourself. 
 Heaven send that your complete cure may be as 
 speedy and effectual as your best friends could wish. 
 How I regret that I have no nice country house, in 
 which I could tempt you to spend the languid hours 
 of convalescence, and return (not repay) your kind 
 ness to me on a similar occasion, just twenty years 
 ago next summer. It was only the other day my 
 wife was speaking of our enjoyment of that little epi 
 sode, which was, in fact, the causal and immediate 
 antecedent of Brook Farm, with all its wondrous ex 
 periences. 
 
 I have looked pretty carefully into the u Intuitive 
 Morals." It is a remarkable production for any one, 
 especially for a woman, and a British woman. She 
 sees clearly the absolute character of the primary 
 idea of right, and argues the question manfully. Her 
 logic is as genuine as her learning, which is almost 
 unique. The second volume is a falling off ; but it 
 is only the change from pure theory to application, 
 in which minds of her cast seldom do their best. 
 You are happy to know such a person. She cannot 
 be frowzy and snuffy, like some lady theologians on 
 our side of the water. 
 
 Don t let your amanuensis forget me, but keep me 
 lupplied with bulletins ; and with kind remembrance 
 to your household saints, believe me yours ever, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLBT 
 
60 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 NEW YORK, January 15, 1859. 
 
 MY DEAR THEODORE, You were very kind to 
 write to ine from your sick-bed, which I trust will 
 soon be changed into the couch of convalescence. 
 With your great fund of vitality I cannot but antici 
 pate a speedy restoration to your usual labors ; but I 
 am sure you cannot be anxious on this point, as you 
 have already done such a day s work in the harvest 
 of humanity, and even in the midst of life have gath 
 ered such a store of autumn sheaves. 
 
 Whether you go to the West Indies or to Europe, 
 or to some Ultima Thule yet more unknown, you will 
 be followed by the benedictions and grateful sympa 
 thies of many loving hearts, who have received from 
 you their first impulses to truly divine and beautiful 
 things. 
 
 My wife bids me give you her kindest remem 
 brances, and the assurance of ancient friendship, 
 while I remain, dear Theodore, ever your faithful 
 friend, GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Before Parker s controversial period began 
 his friend had left the ministry. At the time 
 of their first acquaintance the future heresiarch 
 was unsuspected. He was writing diligently in 
 " The Examiner " about Cudworth, Sir Thomas 
 More, St. Bernard, Olshausen, Gesenius, Du 
 Cange, Matter s ^ " Gnosticism," and other 
 saintly or scholastic matters. A literary no 
 tice of works, then recently published in Ger 
 many (May, 1839), reports a third edition o! 
 
MINISTRY. 61 
 
 Strauss s " Leben Jesu," also an essay by Strauss 
 on the " Transient and Permanent in Christian 
 ity," printed in a periodical called the u Frei- 
 hafen." Parker s article on Strauss in " The 
 Examiner" for July, 1840, is unnecessarily 
 conservative. Strauss s method is turned to 
 ridicule by being applied to the history of 
 American Independence. " The Examiner " for 
 January, 1839, contains a paper by Parker on 
 Ackerman s " Christliche in Plato," the tone of 
 which is not merely conservative but highly 
 eulogistic of the peculiar excellences of the 
 Christian religion. 
 
 During this period Ripley was doing his best 
 to make his own ministry effective, by promot 
 ing interest among the members of his society 
 in each other, in the Unitarian cause, in gen 
 eral charity. But all efforts were vain ; noth 
 ing succeeded. The situation of the meeting 
 house was unfortunate ; the neighborhood de 
 teriorated ; money fell short ; the minister had 
 misgivings in regard to his fitness for profes 
 sional work. The correspondence printed below 
 explains the situation, and prepares for the next 
 etep in a new career. 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, May 21, 1840. 
 
 MY RESPECTED FRIENDS, I learn with regret 
 that the pecuniary affairs of the church are not in a 
 prosperous condition. I also understand thr.t tlw 
 
62 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 means of providing funds to meet the expenses if 
 uow the subject of discussion. 
 
 Under these circumstances T feel that it is due both 
 to you and myself, to express my own views with the 
 perfect frankness which has always marked our in 
 tercourse. 
 
 Our connection was formed in the beginning with 
 a full view of the difficulties which it involved ; the 
 most sanguine friends of the church were not con 
 fident of success ; and on the whole I do not know 
 that our prosperity has been less than we had reason 
 to anticipate. There have always, however, been 
 many discouragements ; and at times these have beeu 
 BO great, that nothing but a sense of the kindness I 
 have received at your hands, and the conviction that 
 my best endeavors were due to you so long as they 
 were desired, has prevented me from requesting to be 
 discharged from your service. 
 
 I cannot then avoid deeming this the proper occa 
 sion to say that if the support of my office should be 
 thought burdensome or inexpedient in the deliberate 
 judgment of your body and the society which you 
 represent, it would be my desire to relinquish it. If 
 your interests can be better promoted by other hands, 
 I wish that they may assume that trust. I have now 
 labored with you for nearly fourteen years ; I have 
 .done what I could to accomplish the purposes of our 
 connection ; and under the present relation it is not 
 likely that my ministry can be essentially different 
 from what it has been ; I do not feel that I can do 
 more in the time to come than I have done in the 
 time past. 
 
MINISTRY. 63 
 
 With these convictions, I am bound to give you 
 ihe option of preserving the present connection. It 
 must be a matter of free will and of good will on 
 both sides, or it can be productive of no pleasant 
 fruits. J beg, therefore, that you will discuss the 
 subject as far as you shall deem it necessary, with the 
 same freedom as if the question were now to be taken 
 on my settlement for the first time. 
 
 In making this communication, I trust too much to 
 your candor to suppose that it will be ascribed to a 
 weariness with my duties or a want of attachment 
 to my society. I wish to consult the common good, 
 without peculiar reference to myself. On former 
 occasions I have felt bound to you by ties which I 
 could not prevail on myself to break. This same 
 feeling remains on my part ; but I shall cheerfully 
 adopt a different course if I were persuaded that it 
 would meet your wishes or be for your advantage ; 
 and in whatever sphere I might be placed, I should 
 not cease to rejoice in your welfare and to be grate 
 ful for your friendship. 
 
 With sincere regard, I am, my respected friends, 
 Your faithful and affectionate servant, 
 
 GEO. BJPLEY. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIENDS, You were informed on the 
 last Lord s Day that I should take this opportunity 
 to present to you a communication in regard to the 
 correspondence which was held in the month of May 
 last, between the proprietors of the church and my- 
 ielf. I had thought that this course was due to you 
 
64 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 on account of your personal interest in the subject, 
 and of the intrinsic fitness that you should he fully 
 informed of everything that belongs to the pastoral 
 relation, which you help to sustain. It is those who 
 attend upon his preaching with whom the minister 
 has the most intimate concern ; he knows no distinc 
 tion in the body of worshippers between proprietors 
 and others ; but the moment a family or an individ 
 ual becomes a part of his congregation, a spiritual 
 relation is established between him and their souls. 
 I accordingly address this communication to you, 
 with the assurance that you will listen to it with 
 the same candor with which you have always re 
 ceived the frankest disclosures of my mind from this 
 place. 
 
 In my letter to the proprietors of the church, in 
 May, I made use of the following language : " If the 
 support of my office should be thought burdensome 
 or inexpedient in the deliberate judgment of your 
 body and the society which you represent, it would 
 be my desire to relinquish it. If your interests can 
 be better promoted by other hands, I wish that they 
 may assume the trust. I have now labored with you 
 for nearly fourteen years ; I have done what I could 
 to accomplish the purpose of our connection, and, 
 under the present relation, it is not likely that my 
 ministry can be essentially different from what it has 
 been. I do not feel that I can do more in the time 
 to come than I have in the time past. With this con 
 viction, I am bound to give you the option of pre- 
 lerving our present connection. It must be a matte? 
 
MINISTRY. 65 
 
 of free-will and of good-will on both sides, or it can 
 be productive of no pleasant fruits. I beg, therefore, 
 that you will discuss the subject, so far as you shall 
 deem it necessary, with the same freedom as if the 
 question were now to be taken on my settlement for 
 the first time." I was induced to make this state 
 merit, my friends, from a conviction that your pros 
 perity as a society could not be greatly increased by 
 my labors, under the arrangements which now exist 
 in most of our churches. I had met you for many 
 years from Sunday to Sunday ; the thoughts and 
 feelings, which were perhaps new to many of you 
 when first presented, had lost much of their fresh 
 ness ; my own mind had ceased to take a deep inter 
 est in many points which we had fully considered 
 with each other ; while at the same time I was aware 
 there were others in which I had a deep concern, 
 which had failed to attract your attention. I was 
 called upon, notwithstanding, to address nearly the 
 same individuals, to pursue the same track on which 
 we had long traveled together, to use great diligence 
 lest I should depart from the usual sphere of the pul 
 pit, and touch on subjects which, by the general con- 
 Bent of our churches, are banished from the ordinary 
 meeting of our public assemblies on the Lord s Day. 
 Such a course must always be productive of depres 
 sion and embarrassment. Unless a minister is ex 
 pected to speak out on all subjects which are upper 
 most in his mind, with no fear of incurring the charge 
 if heresy or compromising the interests of his con 
 gregation, he can never do justice to himself, to his 
 
66 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 people, or the truth which he is bound to declare. If 
 it is virtually understood that he is to confine himself 
 to a certain round of familiar topics, that he is to ab 
 stain from what are called exciting subjects, from all 
 points on which his hearers may be presumed greatly 
 to differ, he can never speak with the earnestness and 
 life which become the messenger who bears the Word 
 of God on his lips. I was fully sensible that 1 was 
 suffering from this influence ; that I had not strength 
 to resist the formality and coldness which are breathed 
 from the atmosphere of our churches ; and that, un 
 less we could all break away from such influences, it 
 was wholly in vain for me to speak any longer in this 
 pulpit. It was my wish, therefore, to leave you per- 
 fectlv free to make such arrangements as would con 
 duce to your highest welfare. I thought that a 
 change in the administration of religion here would 
 be for our mutual advantage. I did not feel at lib 
 erty to propose any important alterations in the prin 
 ciples on which our worship was conducted, while at 
 the same time I was certain that without some change 
 my ministry among you could not be carried on with 
 any vital power. 
 
 I will confess, also, that I was somewhat influenced 
 in the conclusion at which I had arrived by the pres 
 ent aspect of the times. This is very different from 
 what it was when I became your minister. In 1826 
 the Unitarian controversy was in the ascendant. It 
 excited general interest ; questions of dogmatic the 
 ology were in every one s mouth ; and a popular ex 
 position of the arguments from reason and Scripture 
 
MINISTRY. 67 
 
 ji favor of liberal views always commanded general 
 attention. At the same time, inquiries relating te 
 personal religion were not infrequent ; many were 
 aroused from the slumber of worldliness and sin ; foi 
 the first time, religion became a subject of vast and 
 solemn import to their souls; and the plainest and 
 most elementary instruction on the duties of the 
 Christian life were everywhere welcome. That was 
 a good state of things. It promised well for the fut 
 ure. It awakened the brightest hopes in regard to 
 the practical influence of religion in the community ; 
 to the spread of the pure, disinterested, and lovely 
 spirit of charity in the various relations of society ; 
 to the visible exhibition of freedom and holiness in 
 the lives of those who had been born from above, 
 and who seemed to share largely in the divine power 
 of the truths which they had embraced. But this 
 Btate of things it seems could not last forever. It 
 passed away, and a new order of ideas was brought 
 forward. The essential principles of liberal Chris 
 tianity, as I had always understood them, made re 
 ligion to coDsist, not in any speculative doctrine, but 
 in a divine life. They asserted the unlimited free 
 dom of the human mind, and not only the right, but 
 the duty of private judgment. They established the 
 kingdom of God, not in the dead past, but in the 
 living present ; gave the spirit a supremacy over the 
 letter ; insisted on the necessity of pointing out the 
 corruptions of the church, of sweeping away the 
 traditions which obscured the simplicity of truth, 
 *nd urged every soul to press on to the highest at- 
 
68 GEORGE RIFLE 7. 
 
 tainment; to forget what was behind, and never to 
 be kept back from expressing its convictions by the 
 voice of authority or the fear of man. A portion 
 of the liberal clergy felt it their duty to carry ou 
 these views ; to be faithful to their principles ; not t< 
 shrink from their application, but to exercise the free 
 dom which God gave them in the investigation o: 
 truth and the enforcement of its practical results. 
 They could not linger around the grave of the past 
 The experiences of manhood enlarged the conception 
 of their pupilage. They had been taught that no 
 system of divinity monopolized the truth, and they 
 were no more willing to be bound by the prevailing 
 creed of Boston or Cambridge, than their fathers had 
 been by the prescription of Rome or Geneva. But 
 in these conclusions they were divided from some of 
 their brethren. It was thought dangerous to con 
 tinue the progress which had been commenced. Lib 
 eral churches began to fear liberality, and the most 
 heretical sect in Christendom to bring the charge of 
 being so against those who carried out its own princi 
 ples. They who defended the progress as well as 
 the freedom of thought were openly denounced as 
 infidels ; various unintelligible names were applied 
 to them ; and, instead of judging the tree by its 
 fruits, and acknowledging the name of Christian to 
 all who possessed Christ s spirit and claimed to have 
 received his revelation, men appealed to the prejudices 
 of the multitude, and sought to destroy the religious 
 influence of their brethren, on account of the specu- 
 ative opinions which they sincerely believed to b 
 
MINISTRY. 69 
 
 true and Christian. Now it was with this latter class 
 that I always found myself. I had a native aversion 
 to human authority for the soul ; truth seemed to me 
 to be supernatural, and our own perception limited. 
 I could not stand still ; I had faith in man and in 
 God, and never felt the slightest alarm lest the light 
 from above should lead into paths of danger. But I 
 soon found that this spirit could not pass without re 
 buke. The plainest expositions of Christian truth, 
 e it seemed to me, were accused of heresy. Every 
 idea which did not coincide with prevailing opinions, 
 and many which had heretofore always been received 
 by liberal chnrches, were considered hostile to church 
 and state, were spoken of under various appellations 
 which no man understood, and this caused the unin 
 itiated to fear and the good to grieve. 
 
 Under these circumstances, my friends, I wa un 
 willing that you should be forced to share in the 
 odium which might attach to the heresies of your 
 minister. I knew that subjects of philosophical in 
 quiry could scarce be made interesting or even intel 
 ligible to a popular audience ; that the pulpit was nc 
 place for them ; and hence, though I have always 
 stated with as much distinctness as I could the re 
 sults of my investigation that related to religion, you 
 will bear me witness that I have not often brought 
 abstract questions before you ; that I have spared you 
 tfie class of subjects that belong to the student rather 
 than to the practical church, and which have no bear 
 ing on the imprint of the character, or the regener- 
 ttion of the soul. For this reason, I felt that you 
 
70 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 were entitled to the perfect freedom of judging 
 whether any reputed heresies had impaired the influ 
 ence of my preaching ; and that, if you suffered from 
 the effect of any change, of which I was unconscious 
 myself, you might have an opportunity to declare it. 
 I knew that my own opinion was the same as when 
 I entered the ministry ; the views which I cherished 
 of the Scriptures, of Jesus Christ, of the nature of 
 man, of the character of religion, of the condition of 
 society, were identical with those which I have ever 
 maintained since I began to think for myself ; but 
 the experience of several years has no doubt enlarged 
 and confirmed them, given them a deeper hold on my 
 mind, led me to perceive their importance more in 
 tensely, shown me the practical conclusions which a 
 sound logic draws from them, has made me more and 
 morapde sirous to communicate them to others, and 
 to insist on their application to social reform and the 
 advancement of the age. If these facts had influ 
 enced the general tone of my preaching, made me a 
 different man from what I was when you first knew 
 me, or in any respects estranged me from your sym 
 pathies, I knew that our further connection would be 
 of no utility, and that justice and candor alike de 
 manded an opportunity for explanation. I wanted 
 you to understand me precisely as I am, to know the 
 interest I felt in the movements of the day, which are 
 met by some with frowns and by others with ridicule, 
 and by all perhaps with something of that undefined 
 fear, which any new expression of thought is apt to 
 excite in minds that have no sense of the conflicts bj 
 vhich truth is ever won. 
 
MINISTRY. 71 
 
 There is still another circumstance which had no 
 *mall weight in leading me to the decision which I 
 announced. I felt that though in many respects I 
 could rejoice in the fruit of my labors, though you 
 bore every external mark of being a prosperous and 
 nourishing society, though my words had not fallen 
 actually on the ground, but had found access to the 
 hearts of some among you, yet I had failed in pro 
 ducing the effects, which, it appears to me, are the 
 best results of the ministry, and without which, ro 
 minister can feel that he fills a noble or a manly 
 sphere. I have always endeavored to awaken and 
 cherish a spirit of mental independence, a love of re 
 ligious progress, a desire for every man and woman 
 to see the truth with their own eyes and not anoth 
 er s, and to regard the worship of God in spirit and in 
 truth as of more importance than any external com 
 pliance. I have had no wish but to see the growth 
 of pure, upright, just, generous, and aspiring souls, 
 as the fruit of my labors. Hence you will know that 
 I have never attempted to play the priest in your 
 church or your houses. I have had no faith in the 
 snock solemnity which is sometimes assumed for ef 
 fect. I have been as unwilling to exercise the author 
 ity which is supposed to belong to the clerical profes 
 sion, as to permit its exercise on myself ; my whole 
 oul shrinks from it either way. I would neither be 
 a despot nor a slave ; but I have lived with you as a 
 man with men, as a friend, a brother, an equal, dis 
 claiming any means of influence but those which grow 
 out of sincerity of purpose and the faithful exposition 
 
72 GEORGE RIPLEY. , 
 
 of truth. It has been my desire, from the first mo 
 ment of our connection until this time, to lead you to 
 think for yourselves. I have endeavored to set an 
 example of this in my own character. I have al 
 ways maintained that whatever else a minister might 
 do for his people he could not make his own thought, 
 or prayer, or good life, a substitute for theirs ; they 
 must take the task into their own hands, and work 
 out their own salvation with fear and trembling. 
 Hence, I have been content with the distinct exhibi 
 tion of truth ; popular excitement has never been my 
 aim. I have felt that I have done all I could do 
 when I had presented a subject in its various bear 
 ings to the intelligence and higher sentiments of my 
 hearers. This course, I am aware, has not met with 
 the approbation of all. A more authoritative and 
 zealous mode of preaching has been desired by some 
 individuals ; they would have the days of the old 
 priesthood restored, when the clergyman trusted 
 more to his office than to his words, and advanced 
 his opinions as oracles to be submitted to rather than 
 as suggestions to be weighed and considered. I am 
 not sure but that they are right in their views. It 
 may be the case that the pulpit does depend for its 
 efficacy on its elevation above the common herd ; 
 that men cannot be addressed from it as equals or 
 friends ; that something more than simplicity, ear 
 nestness, and good sense, are required to act upon 
 our congregation ; and that it is in vain to trust to 
 natural feeling without artificial excitement. I3ut if 
 this be the fact, I can only say that I deeply regret 
 
MINISTRY. 73 
 
 k t. If it be an objection that a man speaks in the 
 pulpit, as men speak anywhere else, on subjects that 
 deeply interest them, the true man will soon find that 
 he can speak more to the purpose in some other 
 place. It has moreover always been one of my firm 
 est convictions, that we meet in the church on the 
 broadest ground of spiritual equality. The true fol 
 lowers of Jesus are a band of brothers ; they compose 
 one family ; they attach no importance whatever to 
 the petty distinctions of birth, rank, wealth, and sta 
 tion ; but feeling that they are one in the pursuit of 
 truth, in the love of holiness, and in the hope of im 
 mortal life, they regard the common differences of the 
 world, by which men are separated from each other, 
 as lighter than the dust of the balance. They look 
 on each other with mutual respect and honor ; they 
 have no struggle for preeminence ; they have no de 
 sire for the chief seats in the synagogue, nor greet< 
 ings in the markets and the streets ; and the poor 
 widow, who leaves the daily toil by which a suffer 
 ing family is kept from want, to gather with the faith 
 ful in the house of worship, is welcomed with as warm 
 a sympathy, and regarded with as sincere affection, 
 and treated with just as much respect, as they who 
 are arrayed in costly robes, and who come from the 
 heights of office or the abodes of luxury, to look up 
 to the common Father, in whose sight a pure heart 
 and clean hands are alone of value. These ideas I 
 have perhaps insisted on more strongly than any 
 others, for they have been near my heart ; they are 
 l part of my life ; they seem to me to be the verw 
 
HlfLE Y. 
 
 essence of the religion which I was taught The 
 great fact of human equality before God is not one 
 to let the heart remain cold ; it is not a mere specu 
 lative abstraction ; it is something more than a watch 
 word for a political party to gain power with, and 
 then do nothing to carry it into practical operation ; 
 it is a deep, solemn, vital truth, written by the Al 
 mighty in the laws of our being, announced with ter 
 rible distinctness to the oppressor by his beloved Son, 
 and pleaded for by all that is just and noble in the 
 promptings of our nature. Blame me for it if you 
 will, but I cannot behold the degradation, the igno 
 rance, the poverty, the vice, the ruin of the soul, 
 which is everywhere displayed in the very bosom of 
 Christian society in our own city, while men look idly 
 on, without a shudder. I cannot witness the glaring 
 inequalities of condition, the hollow pretension of 
 pride, the scornful apathy with which many urge the 
 prostration of man, the burning zeal with which they 
 run the race of selfish competition, with no thought 
 for the elevation of their brethren, without the sad 
 conviction that the spirit of Christ has well-nigh dis 
 appeared from our churches, and that the fearful 
 doom awaits us, " Inasmuch as ye have not done it 
 unto one of the least of these, ye have not done it 
 unto me." 
 
 But with these feelings, I fear, I have had little 
 sympathy. They have not been understood. They 
 bave been regarded as bearing on political struggles, 
 or having reference to party strife ; and this earnes* 
 defense in public arid in private has been construed 
 
MINISTRY. 75 
 
 into a zeal for questions with which I have had no 
 concern, and connected me with movements from 
 which I have always stood aloof. The defense of 
 humanity is sometimes considered an attack on soci 
 ety ; a sense of the evil of prevalent systems a reflec 
 tion on the character of the men who sustain them ; 
 and the ardent desire to see every one aid in the dig 
 nity of an immortal soul, sharing all the benefits 
 which circumstances permit, be possessed of the 
 means of the highest spiritual culture, and not des 
 titute of any of the many comforts of life, is con 
 founded with the measure of the politician or the in 
 trigue of the demagogue. In common with many 
 others, I know that I have been misunderstood in 
 this matter. I make no account of this fact in refer 
 ence to myself ; but when a minister of the gospel 
 cannot show by his life and conduct, by his word and 
 his works, that he is hostile to all oppression of man 
 by man, that he values moral worth more than out 
 ward condition, that he regards the indulgence of 
 pride as a sin against the Holy Ghost, and that all 
 his sympathies are with the down-trodden and suffer 
 ing poor, without impairing the influence of his la 
 bors, I feel that it is time to look at the foundation 
 on which we stand, and see if it does not suffer from 
 some defect which threatens its destruction. 
 
 With such convictions, my friends, I addressed to 
 the proprietors of the church the letter which has 
 led to the present communication. I was persuaded 
 that we must sooner or later come to a fair under 
 standing with each other. I was aware that there 
 
76 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 were certain views on which we did not probably co 
 incide ; and believing that no church, under our pres 
 ent arrangements, admitted that perfect liberty of 
 thought and expression which I must ever prize as a 
 part of the human birthright, and which is essential 
 to all noble and effective utterance, if I had felt my 
 self at liberty so to do, I should have asked at once 
 to be discharged from your service. But this liberty 
 I did not feel. I have considered myself bound by 
 no common ties to this society. I came here in the 
 inexperience of early youth, called from tho retire 
 ment and ignorance of a literary life, to form a new 
 congregation, with no external aid in my favor, but 
 with many discouraging circumstances to contend 
 with, and often made to perceive that the responsi 
 bilities of the station were greater than I could easily 
 sustain. Nothing could have sustained me but a lirm 
 reliance on God, and the undeviating kindness and 
 friendship which I have enjoyed, with scarce an ex 
 ception, from every individual who has shared in my 
 ministry. As minister and society we have grown 
 up together ; we have neither of us known any other 
 pastoral relation, and have stood by each other. I 
 have surely spared no pains to do you whatever good 
 was in my power ; and I rejoice to testify here in this 
 place that you have ever been faithful and true to 
 me ; and that I would not accept the ministry over 
 any congregation I am acquainted with, in exchange 
 for that which I now bear. The friendships which I 
 have formed with many of you are such as few en- 
 joy ; the intimate acquaintance which I have shared 
 
MINISTRY. 77 
 
 with all who permitted me this privilege has been a 
 source of the richest satisfaction. I have never en 
 tered your doors without being welcomed with ex 
 pressions of regard. Your familiar intercourse with 
 my household, in days of gladness and of grief, I 
 have deemed one of my brightest honors ; while the 
 remembrance of those with whom I have gone down 
 to the dark valley, whose children, parents, and the 
 companions of their life I now speak to, seem to 
 entwine a new cord around my heart, and to stay 
 my lingering steps, as their benignant faces still 
 hover in our season of worship, and the green sods 
 have not yet faded upon their graves. 
 
 It seemed to me, accordingly, that I was bound to 
 take the course which I had decided on ; to leave 
 you the freedom of releasing me if you chose to do 
 so ; that 1 could not retire from the post where you 
 had placed me, until I saw clearly that such a step 
 would be without injury to you or dishonor to myself. 
 
 The letter which was addressed to me by the pro 
 prietors, by whom you are represented, was of a char 
 acter to call for my distinct and grateful acknowledg 
 ments. To say that I received it without a sense of 
 the kindness and esteem by which it was dictated, 
 would indicate an insensibility which I do not claim 
 to possess. In that letter the following language is 
 employed, in reply to the communication which I had 
 made : " We hope that you will consent to continue 
 as our pastor, and that we may receive from your 
 official character those lessons of instruction which 
 we value, and in our social relations those marks oi 
 
78 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 kind regard and consolation in private affliction which 
 you are so eminently adapted to give, and which al 
 ways have been so given as to require our utmost 
 thanks. We beg leave to assure you that we think 
 the continuance of the society in Purchase Street 
 mainly depends on your continuance as pastor, and 
 that, should you leave, a considerable portion of those 
 who have longest been with you, and who have a 
 strong attachment to your character, would also leave ; 
 and should these events take place, we do not now 
 perceive how the remainder of the society could, with 
 out any considerable accession of numbers, grant that 
 support to a pastor which duty and justice would 
 seem to require of them. In closing this communi 
 cation, we are sure that we should do our constitu 
 ents great injustice, did we not assure you of their 
 great personal regard, and that our own regard is no 
 less ardent. We therefore hope and trust that you 
 may be listened to in future with the same pleasure 
 and interest with which you were heard in the com 
 mencement of your ministry." 
 
 The views thus expressed, my friends, were con 
 firmed in full and free conversations which I sought 
 for with the individual members of your committee. 
 Their statements, as you will perceive, present the 
 subject in a somewhat different aspect from that in 
 which I had considered it, and throw upon me a re 
 sponsibility which I should be reluctant to assume. 
 They seem to furnish the same reasons in a stronger 
 ight for my remaining as your pastor, which had be- 
 tore prevented me from asking you for a discharge 
 
MINISTRY. 79 
 
 They place me in a condition in which I could not 
 withdraw from your service without appearing negli 
 gent of your wishes and regardless of your welfare. 
 At the same time, they do not convince me that the 
 permanent continuance of my ministry with you 
 would insure even your external prosperity as a soci 
 ety. I am still of the opinion that the service which 
 is desired could be more effectually performed by 
 other hands than mine. I am unwilling, however, to 
 break from you abruptly, to leave you in a state 
 which might terminate in the slightest injury, or to 
 neglect the opportunity of giving a fair trial to the 
 success of my ministry, under the conditions which I 
 shall state. I accordingly consent to comply with the 
 suggestions in the letter of your committee, and to 
 continue the pastoral relation with the distinct under 
 standing that it shall be for a limited period. If at 
 the expiration of one year from this time, or at any 
 earlier date, it should seem that the obstacles to my 
 removal have ceased to exist, I shall then respectfully 
 solicit you to accept the resignation of my office, and 
 I know of nothing but the most resistless conviction 
 that the contrary course would be my duty, that is 
 likely to change this determination. Meantime, I 
 wish to renounce, and I hereby do renounce, all 
 claims upon you for the fulfillment of any pecuniary 
 contract, as I shall consent to receive nothing from 
 the funds of the society which is not a perfectly vol 
 untary contribution on the part of every individual 
 >y whom it is paid. 
 This leads me to speak of another circumstance, 
 
30 GEORGE RIFLE J. 
 
 which must always embarrass the relations between 
 minister and people, under our existing arrangements. 
 I mean the inducement for the owner of a pew to 
 continue a member of a religious society after he has 
 lost his interest in the worship. No spiritual rela 
 tion can be sincere and efficacious which does not 
 rest on the most perfect freedom. The moment you 
 feel obliged to attend on a religious service, without 
 any inward sympathy, the service can do you no 
 good. There should not be the shade of a restraint 
 on any worshiper, which prevents him from seeking 
 such influences as are most congenial to his tastes, 
 and adapted to his moral and intellectual wants. 
 The minister should feel that the persons whom he 
 addresses have come around him through interest in 
 his words, and whenever that interest ceases they 
 should be able to depart as freely as they came. This 
 would greatly increase the life and animation of our 
 public services. The speaker would have nothing to 
 do but to declare the word which pressed for utter 
 ance, and in the manner which his own nature beet 
 permitted ; the dread of injuring a hearer would 
 never tempt him to modify his thoughts ; for no man 
 who heard what was without interest for him would 
 be forced to come a second time. The freedom of 
 the speaker and the freedom of the hearer, which 
 are each equally important, would thus be secured ; 
 no man would suffer in his property from the convic 
 tions of the preacher ; misunderstandings would be 
 ess frequent ; and the ties which bound the society 
 together would be of a purer and stronger charactei 
 
MINISTRY. 81 
 
 than those which now exist. At present, in all our 
 churches, many are retained by their property in the 
 house, not by their interest in the preacher. They 
 have heard all he has to say, and it is certainly just 
 that they should have no temptation to continue 
 when they are not edified. 
 
 For my own part, I have long been persuaded that 
 we should offer a more spiritual worship, enjoy a 
 more sincere communion with each other, and find 
 our Sabbath services far more attractive and fruitful, 
 were all such restrictions removed, even if we came 
 together as the disciples did, in a large upper room, 
 in a fisher s boat, or by the shore of the sea. The 
 minister should take his stand where he can freely 
 speak out all that is in his soul. He would be joined 
 by those who find that he addresses a powerful and 
 living word to their hearts, who are helped by him in 
 their endeavors after a just and truthful life, and are 
 drawn by a spiritual affinity with the message he de 
 clares, and who are too desirous that the truth of 
 God should prevail to think of its external, tempo 
 rary effects. Such an assembly would constitute the 
 true church of the first-born. It would consist of 
 those who are united by no other tie than faith in 
 divine things ; by the desire to cultivate the holiest 
 principles of our nature, reverence, justice, and 
 love ; to ascertain and follow the laws of Providence 
 in the constitution of the inner spirit and of the out 
 ward world ; and to convert the jarring elements of 
 earth into materials for a pure, serene, and joyful life. 
 
 The basis of worship in such a church would ba 
 
 6 
 
82 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 feeling, not speculation ; the platform would be broad 
 enough to welcome every seeking spirit, in whatever 
 stage of its progress it might be ; all should be en 
 couraged, none should be excluded ; and especially 
 they who are yet feeling after God, if haply they 
 may find him, should be taken by the hand, not 
 driven from the fold. This would leave the investi 
 gation of truth entirely free. The sincerest convic 
 tions could be uttered without dread or misgiving. 
 We should meet, not as having attained, but as learn 
 ers ; of course, every ray of light would be sought, 
 not shunned ; we should let the dead past bury its 
 dead ; we should look on life and truth with young 
 eyes; and thus seeking to be as little children, we 
 should enter the Kingdom of God, and we should 
 know where we were by the divine peace and joy with 
 which our hearts would overflow. In such a church 
 there could be no cold or formal preaching. The in 
 struction would be the overflowing of an individual 
 soul ; there would be no aim at effect. The topics of 
 discourse would be taken from the experience of life ; 
 they would embrace the widest range of thought, and 
 the more exciting and Soul-stirring the better. The 
 infinite Bible of the Universe would be the text-book, 
 and whatever the soul feels or forbodes, the commen 
 tary. 
 
 But so long as the questions which relate to the 
 highest truth and duty, though discussed everywhere 
 else, are virtually excluded from the pulpit ; so long 
 as the minister is expected to adapt himself to the 
 itate of the times, to popular opinion and prevailing 
 
MINISTRY. 83 
 
 prejudices ; so long as he is valued more for his 
 plausible and obliging spirit than for his fearless re 
 buke of sin and detection of error, we may be lulled 
 into treacherous slumber by the services of the church, 
 but they can never accomplish their purpose in arous 
 ing the guilty from their sleep of death, pouring light 
 over the darkened mind, and advancing the reign of 
 truth, justice, and love over the kingdoms of men. 
 
 This idea of social worship can be carried into effect 
 only in a congregation where there is a prevailing 
 harmony of sentiment between the people and the 
 minister ; where the questions which most interest 
 his mind are those which they are also most desirous 
 to hear discussed ; where the arrangements of the so 
 ciety allow the most perfect freedom of departure to 
 all who have ceased to be interested in the views that 
 are advanced. Whenever the attention of the min 
 ister is strongly drawn to subjects which are not 
 regarded as important by the hearer, the free, sympa 
 thetic chain which binds heart with heart is disturbed, 
 no electric spark is drawn forth, the speaker loses his 
 power, and the people are not moved. 
 
 Now this is precisely the position which one por 
 tion of our community holds towards another, and, in 
 many cases, ministers and people share in its embar 
 rassments. If a minister is stationary and his people 
 are for progress, there is an interruption of sympa 
 thy. There is a similar interruption if a people is 
 stationary, while the minister is for progress. And 
 the same is true with regard to any other points on 
 which the community is divided. 
 
84 GEORGE RIPLEY 
 
 The attention of some good men is directed chiefly 
 to individual evils ; they wish to improve private 
 character without attacking social principles which 
 obstruct all improvement ; while the attention of other 
 good men is directed to the evils of society ; they think 
 that private character suffers from public sins, and 
 that, as we are placed in society by Providence, the 
 advancement of society is our principal duty. With 
 regard to these questions there is a great difference 
 of opinion. They compose the principal subjects of 
 thought at the present day. They form what is called 
 the excitiug questions by which society is now agi 
 tated. I should not do justice, my friends, to you or 
 myself, if I were to close this communication without 
 noticing the ground I have occupied in regard to those 
 questions. It has been made, as you are aware, the 
 cause of some reproach. A popular cry has been 
 started by many individuals agains-t the advocates of 
 new views on philosophy and the condition of soci 
 ety, and, in common with many others, you have 
 heard accusations brought against principles by those 
 who have failed even to explain the meaning of the 
 terms by which they were denounced. 
 
 There is a class of persons who desire a reform in 
 the prevailing philosophy of the day. These are 
 called Transcendentalists, because they believe in an 
 order of truths which transcends the sphere of tho 
 external senses. Their leading idea is the supremacy 
 >f mind over matter. Hence they maintain that th 
 xuth of religion does not depend on tradition, nor 
 Historical facts, but has an unerring witness in the 
 
MINISTRY. 85 
 
 soul. There is a light, they believe, which enhght- 
 eneth every man that cometh into the world ; there 
 is a faculty in all the most degraded, the most ig 
 norant, the most obscure to perceive spiritual truth 
 when distinctly presented ; and the ultimate appeal 
 on all moral questions is not to a jury of scholars, a 
 hierarchy of divines, or the prescriptions of a creed, 
 but to the common sense of the human race. These 
 views I have always adopted ; they have been at the 
 foundation of my preaching from the first time that 
 I entered the pulpit until now. The experience and 
 reflection of nearly twenty years have done much 
 to confirm, nothing to shake, them ; and if my dis 
 courses in this house, or my lectures in yonder ves 
 try, have in any instance displayed the vitality of 
 truth, impressed on a single heart a genuine sense of 
 religion, disclosed to you a new prospect of the re 
 sources of your own nature, made you feel more 
 deeply your responsibility to God, cheered you in 
 the sublime hope of immortality, and convinced your 
 reason of the reality and worth of the Christian rev 
 elation, it was because my mind has been trained in 
 the principles of Transcendental Philosophy, a phi 
 losophy which is now taught in every Protestant uni 
 versity on the Continent of Europe, which is the com 
 mon creed of the most enlightened nations, and the 
 singular misunderstanding of which among ourselves 
 illustrates more forcibly, I am ashamed to say, the 
 heedless enterprise than the literary culture of our 
 gountrymen. If you ask, why I have not preached 
 the philosophy in the pulpit, I answer that I could not 
 
86 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 have preached without it, but my main business as a 
 minister, I conceive, has been, not to preach philoso 
 phy or politics or medicine or mathematics, but the 
 Gospel of Christ. If you ask whether I embrace 
 every unintelligible production of the mind that is 
 quoted from mouth to mouth as Transcendentalism, 
 I answer, that if any man writes so as not to be un 
 derstood, be he Transcendental ist or Materialist, it is 
 his own fault, not another s ; for my own part, I 
 agree with Paul, " that I had rather speak five words 
 with my understanding, that by my voice I might 
 teach others also, than ten thousand words in an un 
 known tongue. " There is another class of persons 
 who are devoted to the removal of the abuses that 
 prevail in modern society. They witness the oppres 
 sions that are done under the sun, and they cannot 
 keep silence. They have faith that God governs 
 man ; they believe in a better future than the past. 
 Their daily prayer is for the coming of the kingdom 
 of righteousness, truth, and love; they look forward 
 to a more pure, more lovely, more divine state of so 
 ciety than was ever realized on earth. With these 
 views, I rejoice to say, I strongly and entirely sympa 
 thize. While I do not feel it my duty to unite with 
 any public association for the promotion of these 
 ideas, it is not because I would disavow their princi 
 ples, but because in many cases the cause of truth is 
 carried forward better by individual testimony than 
 by combined action. I would not be responsible for 
 the measures of a society ; I would have no society 
 responsible for me ; but in public and private, by 
 
MINISTRY. 87 
 
 word and by deed, by persuasion and example, 1 
 would endeavor to help the progress of the great 
 principles which I have at heart. The purpose of 
 Christianity, as I firmly believe, is to redeem society 
 as well as the individual from all sin. As a Chris 
 tian, then, I feel bound to do what I can for the pro 
 motion of universal temperance, to persuade men to 
 abandon every habit which is at war with their phys 
 ical welfare and their moral improvement, and to pro 
 duce, by appeals to the reason and conscience, that 
 love of inward order which is beyond the reach of 
 legal authority. As a Christian, I would aid in the 
 overthrow of every form of slavery ; I would free 
 the mind from bondage and the body from chains , I 
 could not feel that my duty was accomplished while 
 there was one human being, within the sphere of m.\ 
 influence, held to unrequited labor at the will of an 
 other, destitute of the means of education, or doomed 
 to penury, degradation, and vice by the misfortune of 
 his birth. I conceive it to be a large share of the 
 minister s duty to preach the gospel to the poor, to 
 announce glad tidings of deliverance to all that are 
 oppressed. His warmest sympathies should be with 
 those who have none to care for them ; he should 
 never be so much in earnest as when pleading the 
 cause of the injured. His most frequent visits will 
 not be to the abodes of fashion and luxury, but to 
 the dwellings where not many of the wise and mighty 
 of this world are apt to enter ; and if he can enjoy 
 the poor man s blessing, whom he has treated like an 
 equal and a brother in all the relation? of life, whose 
 
88 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 humble abode he has cheered by the expression of 
 honest sympathy, and whose hard lot draws tears 
 from those unused to sorrow, he will count it a richer 
 reward than the applause of society or the admiration 
 of listening crowds. There is another cause in which 
 I feel the strongest interest, and which I would labor 
 to promote, that of inward peace between man and 
 man. 1 have no faith whatever in the efficacy or the 
 lawfulness of public or private wars. If they have 
 ever been necessary in the progress of society, as I 
 know they have been unavoidable, it was owing to 
 the prevalence of the rude, untamed animal passions 
 of man over the higher sentiments of his nature. It 
 should be the effort of every true man to abolish them 
 altogether ; to banish the principles from which they 
 proceed ; to introduce the empire of justice and love ; 
 and to abstain on all occasions from the indulgence 
 of bitterness or wrath in his own conduct, and to 
 offer no needless provocation for its indulgence in 
 others. I believe in the omnipotence of kindness, of 
 moral intrepidity, of divine charity. If society per 
 formed its whole duty, the dominion of force would 
 yield to the prevalence of love, our prisons would be 
 converted into moral hospitals, the schoolmaster would 
 supersede the executioner, violence would no more be 
 heard in our land, nor destruction in our borders. 
 Our walls would be salvation, and our gates praise. 
 
 I have thus laid before you, my friends, what I 
 proposed to communicate on this occasion. I have 
 *sed great plainness of speech. I have kept nothing 
 back. I have omitted no topic on which I thought 
 
MINISTRY. 89 
 
 light or explanation was demanded. YOM will have 
 no further occasion to inquire from others what I be 
 lieve or think, as you have received as explicit dis 
 closures as I know how to make from my own lips. 
 If, after you have heard the statements now pre 
 sented, you shall arrive at different conclusions from 
 those contained in the letter of your committee ; if 
 you shall think that another s voice can be heard here 
 with greater advantage than my own ; if you shrink 
 from one who comes before you laden with so many 
 heresies ; I shall claim no privilege in this place. I 
 shall consult your truest interests ever ; and I can 
 not believe that they will be promoted by your being 
 compelled to listen to one with whom you feel a di 
 minished sympathy. If, on the other hand, you do 
 not decline my services, on the conditions which I 
 have stated, it will be my earnest endeavor to build 
 you up in holiness, in freedom, in faith, so long as I 
 stand here. But I can never be a different man from 
 what God has made me. I must always speak with 
 frankness the word that comes into mv heart ; and 
 my only request is that it may be heard with the same 
 frankness and candor with which it is uttered. 
 
 One word more and I will stop. The correspond 
 ence which has taken place has been spoken of as 
 the sign of a difficulty between the people and minis 
 ter of this congregation. This is not the case. There 
 is no difficulty, no misunderstanding, in that relation. 
 I have never received greater proofs of confidence, 
 attachment, and esteem, than during this discussion. 
 
90 GEORGE RIPLE7. 
 
 I have never felt greater attachment to my friends 
 and brothers here than I do at this moment. If un 
 called for words have ever fallen from the lips of any 
 individual or from my own, it is the infirmity 01 
 human nature ; not, I am sure, the fruit of deliber 
 ate unkindness ; and as I hope to be forgiven, I for 
 give everything. Where there is honor and jaetice 
 and the fear of God on both sides, as I trust there is 
 here, there is seldom any need of the slightest diffi 
 culty. What we all desire is the best interests of the 
 society, of the families that worship here, of the souls 
 that look to this place for immortal food. We have 
 been together too long ; we have known each other 
 too well ; we have stood too often by each other s 
 side in scenes of joy and in the hour of grief, for any 
 unworthy emotion to be cherished long in our breasts. 
 I look on these walls with inexpressible interest ; 
 every seat has a story to tell of the past which we 
 cannot think of unmoved. We have sat in heavenly 
 places here with those who are now in heavenly 
 places above ; our songs have ascended in pleasant 
 harmony with those who now offer praise before the 
 highest throne ; the venerable and the beloved have 
 been trained to holiness in our companionship ; what 
 ever may be the future we have been blest in the 
 past ; and whether this pulpit shall be filled by him 
 who now addresses you, or by another who shall fill 
 ,t more worthily, he will never cease to call down 
 pon it the choicest benedictions of Heaven. 
 " Peace be within these walls, and prosperity withis 
 
MINISTRY. 91 
 
 this dwelling. For my brethren and companions 
 sake, I will ever say, peace be within thee." 
 
 I remain your devoted and affectionate servant, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 BOSTON, October 1, 1840- 
 
 To a letter like this, so frank and sincere, 
 betraying in every line so profound a feeling of 
 the incompatibility which existed between min 
 ister and people, so fraught with open secrets, 
 there could be no reassuring answer. The 
 ultimate event was clearly foreseen. On the 
 1st of January, 1841, the minister addressed a 
 note to the proprietors, requesting to be per 
 mitted to depart after three months more of 
 service. On the 31st of the month the propri 
 etors approved a letter accepting the resigna 
 tion, and resolutions expressing, in terms of un 
 qualified import, confidence and affection. The 
 farewell discourse, a model of dignified speech, 
 gentle, delicate, sympathetic enough, touching, 
 but not dwelling, on the causes of the separa 
 tion, a truly pastoral sermon, was delivered 
 March 28th, and printed for the use of the 
 church in a pamphlet, which contained, besides 
 the sermon, the communications which recorded 
 the final separation. 
 
 Thus the ministry ended, never, in that form, 
 to be resumed. But to the end of his days Mr. 
 Ripley looked back on it with tender interest. 
 
92 GEORGE RIP LEY 
 
 At Brook Farm he enjoyed the singing of the 
 familiar hymn-tunes of the old service. In New 
 York it was his habit, until infirmity prevented, 
 to attend religious worship. He clung to sacred 
 associations ; deplored the tendency to make re 
 ligious observances secular by substituting halls 
 for meeting-houses, and lectures for sermons ; 
 and held in high esteem the earnest prophets of 
 the soul. As late as 1875, he wrote to an old 
 Boston friend, a contributor to the " American 
 Cyclopaedia " : " You take it for granted that I 
 feel but little interest in the old Unitarianism, 
 which is not the case. I owe it a great debt of 
 gratitude for the best influences that my youth 
 enjoyed ; and if any little success has attended 
 my subsequent career, it has been chiefly caused 
 by the impulses I received in Boston, and es 
 pecially from my association with the liberal 
 and noble minded men whom I loved as friends 
 and honored as guides." In 1879 he wrote in 
 similar strains to Dr. G. W. Hosmer : " I trust 
 that it is not a weakness of advanced years that 
 I cherish so strong an affection for my old Mas 
 sachusetts friends, and especially for my breth 
 ren in the Unitarian ministry, whom I always 
 regard as the best specimens of noble and en 
 lightened manhood that I ever met with." 
 
 His last service was rendered at the ordina 
 tion of his successor, J. I. T. Coolidge, on Feb 
 
MINISTRY. 98 
 
 ruary 9, 1842, on which occasion he came from 
 Brook Farm to deliver the " Address to the 
 People." The meeting-house was repaired, 
 and, as far as was proper, embellished for the 
 new pastor ; but in vain. In less than five 
 years it was thought wise to change the loca 
 tion ; the corner-stone of a new, and for that 
 time sumptuous, edifice was laid, May 3, 1847 ; 
 on the same day, the year following, it was ded 
 icated. The name of the society was changed 
 to the " Thirteenth Congregational Church xf 
 the City of Boston;" substantially another so 
 ciety was formed in another part of the town, 
 at the corner of Harrison Avenue and Beach 
 Street ; but fortune did not smile on the under 
 taking. In 1860 the society was dissolved, and 
 at present no longer exists. The very records 
 of the church were lost. A single charred vol 
 ume of business entries remains to tell the story 
 of financial relations. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 GERMS OF THOUGHT. 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY S literary activity began 
 early, and was from the first directed to the 
 deepest problems. For a short period he edited 
 the " Christian Register," which, in his hands, 
 was all that it was designed to be, an organ of 
 liberal views in theology. His occasionally 
 printed sermons and tracts ever bore upon 
 some interesting phase of speculation. Between 
 1830 and 1837 he wrote ten articles for the 
 " Christian Examiner," all either stating or 
 foreshadowing his later conclusions. The first 
 paper, on Degerando (September, 1830), indi 
 cated the theory of self-education as self-devel 
 opment. The second, " Religion in France " 
 (July, 1831), contains an enthusiastic plea for 
 spiritual Christianity, without priest, dogma, or 
 intellectual limitation. This was followed by 
 " Pestalozzi " (January, 1832), and by a notice 
 of Follen s Inaugural. A paper reviewing 
 Mackintosh s Ethical Philosophy, clear, forci 
 ble, argumentative, defends the doctrine of a 
 moral sense in man. To some degree the same 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 95 
 
 doctrine had come out in the article on Pesta- 
 lozzi, whose humane aspirations found a hearty 
 response from the American critic, and whose 
 experiment, " Neuhof," may have been one of 
 the incentives to Brook Farm. Next (May, 
 1835) came a review of Marsh s translation of 
 Herder. The reviewer speaks with some re 
 serve of German theologians, but praises Tho- 
 luck, protests against the indiscriminate charge 
 of mysticism and obscurity, and repels the no 
 tion that German philosophy is irreligious. A 
 new reformation, he contends, is started in Ger 
 many by men like Herder, Baumgarten, Sem- 
 ler, Ernesti, and Michaelis. A characteristic 
 paper on Herder s theological opinions was also 
 printed in 1835. In March, 1836, came an arti 
 cle, mainly translated, on Schleiermacher, who, 
 he thinks, " is without a representative in our 
 theological progress." The remarkable article 
 on Martineau s " Rationale of Religious In 
 quiry " appeared in the " Examiner " for No 
 vember, 1836. In this paper a distinction is 
 made between liability to error and absence of 
 that inspiration, which, in spite of incidental 
 error, is claimed for the writers of the New Tes 
 tament, as well as for the prophets and law-giv 
 ers of the ancient dispensation, for the soul of 
 man, but for Christ alone, " in entire and abso 
 lute completeness." This article caused great 
 
96 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 sensation. Mr. Andrews Norton called atten 
 tion to it in the " Boston Daily Advertiser, 
 condemning its doctrines as leaning toward in 
 fidelity, and rebuking the presumption of the 
 young writer. Mr. Ripley printed a rejoinder 
 in the same paper on the very next day. This 
 was the last paper of importance that he Bent 
 to the " Examiner," for the translation from 
 Ullman of Herder s " Theological Aphorisms " 
 (January, 1837) contained nothing suggestive. 
 About this time there was much interest among 
 Unitarians in new views on Christianity and 
 Religion. In May of that year Orville Dewey 
 delivered the Dudleian Lecture at Cambridge, 
 choosing " Miracles " as his theme. The first 
 volume of Norton s " Genuineness of the Gos 
 pels " was published in 1837, and straightway 
 reviewed in the " Examiner," by A. A. Liver- 
 more. James Walker, A. P. Peabody, Orville 
 Dewey, and other leaders of thought were writ 
 ing in the " Examiner " about Revelation, Mir 
 acles, Inspiration, Christ s Moral Character. 
 In the " Examiner " for March, 1833, F. H. 
 Hedge published an article on Coleridge, in 
 which he found occasion to commend Kant, 
 Fichte, especially Schelling, and spoke warmly 
 of the intellectual and spiritual influence of the 
 transcendental philosophy. This paper was 
 praised by Mr. Ripley in the " Register," and 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 97 
 
 was, doubtless, of potent influence in detei min 
 ing the bent of his mind. 
 
 The " Discourses on the Philosophy of Relig 
 ion Addressed to Doubters who wish to Be 
 lieve," published in 1836, comprised six 
 sermons, one of which, the fifth, " On the Coin 
 cidence of Christianity with the Higher Nature 
 of Man," had been printed before in the " Lib 
 eral Preacher." The little volume was not is 
 sued by way of controversy. The professed aim 
 was " the quickening of a pure faith in spirit 
 ual truth by a calm exposition of some of the 
 principles on which it rests." The discourses 
 present the positive side of the author s faith. 
 They are in tone sympathetic and gracious, 
 charged with a serene and confiding piety. The 
 " Examiner " speaks of the book as " one of the 
 happiest among the many indications we have 
 had of late of a disposition to introduce a higher 
 tone of spirituality into the preaching of Unita 
 rians." In 1838 appeared the first two volumes 
 of the series entitled " Specimens of Foreign 
 Standard Literature," which extended to four 
 teen volumes, by J. S. Dwight, Margaret Fuller, 
 C. C. Felton, W. H. Channing, J. F. Clarke, 
 Samuel Osgood, and C. T. Brooks. The " Phil 
 osophical Miscellanies," as the opening volumes 
 were called, contained careful introductory and 
 critical notices of the works of Cousin, Jouffroy, 
 7 
 
98 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 and Constant, especially of Cousin, accompa 
 nied by translations of such passages from their 
 published writings as were judged best suited 
 to illustrate the course of French philosophy in 
 its pursuit of an ideal aim. These volumes had 
 a marked influence on the educated men of thtit 
 day, especially in New England. They were 
 afterwards in 1857 republished in Edin 
 burgh. 
 
 By this time the way was prepared for the 
 vindication of Spinoza, Schleiermacher, and De 
 Wette against the charge of atheism and irre- 
 ligion brought by Mr. Andrews Norton. Mr. 
 Emerson s famous " Address to the Alumni of 
 the Cambridge Divinity School " was given in 
 1838. It effectually discharged the electricity 
 that was in the air. At the succeeding anni 
 versary, in 1839, Andrews Norton gave the ad 
 dress on " The Latest Form of Infidelity." It 
 was a resolute, unflinching, scornful, but able 
 and strong attack on the prevailing philosoph 
 ical tendency. His doctrine was " Sensation 
 alism " of an extreme type. 
 
 " To the demand for certainty, let it come 
 from whom it may, I answer, that I know of no 
 bsolute certainty, beyond the limit of moment 
 ary consciousness, a certainty that vanishes 
 the instant it exists, and is lost in the region of 
 metaphysical doubt." " There can be no intui 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 99 
 
 tion, no direct perception, of the truth of Chris 
 tianity, no metaphysical certainty." " We must 
 use the same faculties and adopt the same rules, 
 in judging concerning the facts of the world 
 which we have not seen, as concerning those oi 
 the world of which we have seen a very little." 
 " We proceed throughout upon probabilities." 
 " Of the facts on which religion is founded, we 
 can pretend to no assurance, except that de 
 rived from the testimony of God, from the 
 Christian revelation." " We can have no re 
 ligious sentiment of the Infinite, unless we have 
 faith in the one Infinite Being, the God of 
 Christianity. We can have no religious love 
 of the beautiful and true, or, in common lan 
 guage, of beauty and truth, if we do not recog 
 nize something beautiful and true beyond the 
 limits of this world." " He who has any relig 
 ious sentiment must have a religious creed." 
 " Religious principle and feeling, however im 
 portant, are necessarily founded on the belief 
 of certain facts : of the existence and provi 
 dence of God, and of man s immortality. Now 
 the evidence of these facts is not intuitive." 
 r4 Our belief in those truths, the evidence of 
 which we cannot examine for ourselves, is 
 founded in a greater or less degree on the testi 
 mony of others, who have examined their evi 
 dence, and whom we regard as intelligent and 
 trustworthy." 
 
100 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 The reply, published anonymously, by " An 
 Alumnus," in 1839, was a model of controver 
 sial writing, clear, calm, impersonal, not free 
 from asperity, but free from bitterness. Theo 
 dore Parker said, in a letter to a friend : " Rip- 
 ley is writing the reply to Mr. Norton. It will 
 make a pamphlet of about one hundred pages 
 octavo, and is clear, strong, and good. He will 
 not say all that I wish might be said ; but, after 
 we have seen that, I will handle, in a letter to 
 you, certain other points not approached by 
 Ripley. There is a higher word to be said on 
 this subject than Ripley is disposed to say just 
 now." The " Alumnus " did indeed, in his first 
 letter, confine himself to the main point raised 
 by Mr. Norton, namely, his adoption and de 
 fense of the " Exclusive Principle," in an ad 
 dress before an assembly of liberal clergymen. 
 The doctrine disputed is that the "MIRACLES 
 
 RECORDED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT AEE THE 
 ONLY PROOF OF THE DIVINE ORIGIN OF CHRIS 
 TIANITY." For himself, the writer disclaims 
 historical unbelief. 
 
 " The question at issue," he says, " ought to 
 be distinctly understood. It is not concerning 
 the divine mission of Jesus Christ. The cer 
 tainty of that will be at the foundation of my 
 reasonings, and it is admitted, as far as I know, 
 in all the controversies to which the subject haa 
 given rise in our own country. 
 
GER.\fS OF THOUGHT. 101 
 
 u Nor is it whether Jesus Christ performed 
 the miracles ascribed to him in the New Testa 
 ment. I shall hereafter allude to the doubts 
 which are felt by many excellent Christians on 
 this point ; but, for my own part, I cannot avoid 
 the conclusion that the miracles related in the 
 Gospels were actually wrought by Jesus. With 
 out being blind to the difficulties of the subject, 
 I receive this view, according to my best knowl 
 edge and understanding, on the evidence pre 
 sented, and in this belief I am joined by a large 
 number of those, against whom your charge of 
 infidelity is alleged, among ourselves. 
 
 "Neither does the question I am about to 
 consider relate to any philosophical explanation 
 of the miracles of Christ. I believe that he 
 gave health to the sick, sight to the blind, and 
 life to the dead ; and my explanation of these 
 facts is that presented in the New Testament." 
 
 The error he combats is opposed on several 
 grounds: 1. As being bold, extravagant, and 
 novel. 2. As being contrary to the clear and 
 express teachings of the Scriptures, both of the 
 Old and the New Testament. 3. As being in 
 compatible with precise directions to scrutinize 
 and reject miraculous claims when put forward 
 by false prophets. 4. The doctrine that mira 
 cles are the only evidence of a divine revelation, 
 if generally admitted, would impair the influ- 
 
102 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 ence of the Christian ministry, by separating 
 the pastor of a church from the sympathies of 
 his people. 5. It would have an injurious bear 
 ing on the character of a large portion of the 
 most sincere believers in Christ. 6. It removes 
 Christianity from its stronghold in the common 
 mind, and puts it into the keeping of scholars 
 and antiquaries. " Christian Truth," it is as 
 serted, " has always been addressed to the in 
 tuitive perceptions of the common mind. A 
 shallow and presumptuous philosophy pre 
 sumptuous because shallow usurps the place 
 of the simplicity of Christ, and would fain 
 smother the breathing life of heavenly truth. 
 Creeds came into the church with the dreams 
 of speculation. They have been handed down 
 through the dust of the schools ; they have 
 sought their principal defense in the subtile, 
 shadowy, and artificial distinctions of the 
 learned ; and the most vigorous attacks they 
 have received have come from the unarmed 
 strength of plebeian sects." 
 
 Mr. Norton put the substance of this Letter 
 contemptuously aside, as not being addressed 
 to an examination of his reasoning. He could 
 hardly say that of the two subsequent Letters, 
 which were devoted to a defense of Spinoza, 
 Schleiermacher, and De Wette against the 
 charge of atheism and irreligion. In the second 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 103 
 
 of these, page 148, occurs this language : " The 
 principle that the soul has no faculty to perceive 
 spiritual truth is contradicted, I believe, by the 
 universal consciousness of man. God has never 
 left himself without witness in the human heart. 
 The true light has shone, more or less brightly, 
 on every man that cometh into the world. This 
 Divine Spirit has never ceased to strive with 
 the children of earth ; it> has helped their in 
 firmities, given them, just and elevated concep 
 tions, touched their eyes with celestial light, 
 and enabled them to see the beauty and glory 
 of divine things. God has ever manifested him 
 self to his intelligent creatures ; but have they 
 no faculty to behold this manifestation ? No ; 
 man has the faculty for 4 feeling and perceiving 
 religious truth. So far from being imaginary, 
 it is the highest reality of which the pure soul 
 is conscious. Can I be more certain that I am 
 capable of looking out and admiring the forms 
 of external beauty, 4 the frail and weary weed 
 in which God dresses the soul that he has called 
 into time, than that I can also look within, and 
 commune with the fairer forms of truth and 
 holiness, which plead for my love, as visitants 
 from heaven? " 
 
 In the second Letter, that on Spinoza, he had 
 written : " They (scholars) are called on for 
 the most gracious sympathies with the whole 
 
104 GEORGE RIPLEY 
 
 community. They should freely give of all the 
 light which they have freely received. Thia 
 cannot be done by diverting public attention 
 from general topics to personal interests. These 
 topics must be met with manliness and with 
 temperate zeal. There must be no disguise, no 
 timidity, no bitterness, no exclusiveness. Even 
 those of us who are deeply sensible of having 
 no claim on the attention of the public, and 
 who would gladly exchange the field of dispute 
 for the still and quiet air of delightful studies, 
 or the more attractive walks of practical useful 
 ness, are bound to utter the word which it may 
 be given us to speak." Then follows a quiet 
 but unsparing criticism of what he considers 
 Mr. Norton s unjust aspersions on a "devout, 
 sweet, unselfish, truth-seeking " man. 
 
 This was in 1840. In 1855, noticing in the 
 New York " Tribune " Mr. Norton s transla 
 tion of the Gospels, he said of its author : " His 
 mind was so habitually severe in its action, his 
 demand for clearness of thought and expression 
 was so unrelenting, and his opinions were so 
 accurately formed and so firmly held, that no 
 production of his pen could fail of bearing the 
 characteristic stamp of his individual genius 
 and culture. . . . He often expressed rash and 
 hasty judgments in regard to the labors of re 
 sent or contemporary scholars, consulting bis 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 105 
 
 prejudices, as it would seem, rather than com 
 petent authority. But in his own immediate 
 department of sacred learning he is entitled to 
 the praise of sobriety of thought and profound 
 ness of investigation." Later still, in a chapter 
 on "Philosophic Thought in Boston," written 
 for the " Memorial History," the younger oppo 
 nent writes thus of his antagonist : " Contempo 
 rary with Professor Frisbie, and united with 
 him by the most intimate ties of friendship and 
 sympathy, was Andrews Norton, who, though 
 trained in a different philosophical school, the 
 principles of which he always cherished with 
 singular tenacity, holds a distinguished place 
 among the intellectual influences which have 
 helped to stamp the society of Boston with an 
 impress of liberal inquiry and original thought 
 in the sphere of letters, philosophy, and art." 
 The whole passage is remarkable as a tribute 
 to an extraordinary man, and as an illustration 
 of that rare balance of mind, that unfailing 
 equity and sweetness of temper, which distin 
 guished George Ripley through life. 
 
 In the same year that this controversy was 
 going on (1840), in connection with R. W. Em 
 erson and Margaret Fuller, Mr. Ripley estab 
 lished " The Dial," a monthly magazine for re 
 ligion, literature, and art, of which he was the 
 resident editor in Boston until his removal tc 
 
106 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Brook Farm in 1841. During the short period 
 of his association with it he contributed two 
 articles, one a review of Orestes A. Brown- 
 Bon s writings, the other a " Letter to a Theo 
 logical Student." The first is a hearty tribute 
 to " a writer whose native force of mind, com 
 bined with rare philosophical attainments, hap 
 elevated him to a prominent rank among th 
 living authors of this country." The second ie 
 a warm exhortation to a young aspirant after 
 the honors of the ministry to direct his eyes 
 earnestly to " the great lights above and within." 
 He recommends familiar acquaintance with Her 
 der s " Letters on the Study of Theology," and 
 says : " In Europe a new life has sprung up 
 from the ashes of a departed faith ; a hag-like, 
 scholastic theology has given up the ghost, upon 
 being brought out of darkness into daylight; 
 and a virgin form appears, radiant with beauty, 
 and already uttering the same words with which 
 angel voices heralded the birth of Christ. It 
 is for our young men to welcome this glorious 
 visitant to their bosoms. . . . Let your mind 
 be filled and consecrated with the heavenly 
 epirit of Christ ; let your youthful energy be 
 blended with the meekness and gentleness and 
 wisdom of your Divine Master, and you will 
 cave everything to hope and little to fear." 
 The man who could write such words wa? 
 
GERMS OF THOUGHT. 107 
 
 surely no denier, but a fervent believer rather. 
 He left the ministry himself, not because he 
 had lost faith in it, but because his soul was 
 kindled with zeal for a new, and, as he felt, 
 better method of applying gospel principles to 
 human society. He had become persuaded, 
 after many years of the ablest service he could 
 render, that the work of the ministry was not 
 the work appointed for him. He honored it, 
 but could perform it no longer ; and the only 
 way that he knew of showing how truly he held 
 it in honor was to put its precepts into immedi 
 ate practice by instituting a social order which 
 should correspond to its requirements ; by a he 
 roic attempt to bring the new heaven of proph 
 ecy down to the old earth of fact. He had 
 always insisted on a Christian life as the only 
 sure test of a Christian faith ; now he meant 
 to put into radical practice the lessons of his 
 own pulpit. The ministry was noble, literature 
 was delightful, but duty he considered before 
 all. 
 
CHAPTER IIL 
 BKOOK FARM. 
 
 THE plunge from the pulpit to Brook Farm, 
 though immediate, was not so headlong as is 
 commonly supposed \J on the contrary, it was 
 natural, -comparatively easy, almost inevitable. 
 At this distance, sharply contrasting the two 
 situations, the dignity, leisure, elegance, re- 
 spectability of the one, with the democracy, toil, 
 rudeness, unpopularity of the other ; the quiet 
 of the library with the tumult of affairs ; the 
 pursuit of high philosophy with the study of 
 soils and crops ; the works of Kant, Schelling, 
 Cousin, with muck manuals ; broadcloth and 
 beaver with overalls and tarpaulin ; it seems aa 
 if heroism of an exalted kind, not to say a rash 
 enthusiasm, quite unaccountable in a cautious 
 man, must have stimulated so wild an enter 
 prise. Heroism there certainly was. There 
 was heroism in the brave preacher who, for 
 nearly fifteen years, had proclaimed a gospel 
 which was unwelcome to the staid Unitarian 
 community whereof he was a member. But 
 Brook Farm was simply the logical completion 
 
BROOK FARM. 109 
 
 of the pulpit ministration ; a final proof of the 
 preacher s sincerity/ Besides all this, it would 
 be a mistake to suppose that the enterprise 
 looked then as chimerical as to some it does now. 
 It must be remembered that projects of radi 
 cal social reform were in the air. To quote 
 the language of John Morley : " A great wave 
 of humanity, of benevolence, of desire for im 
 provement, a great wave of social sentiment, 
 in short, poured itself among all who had 
 the faculty of large and disinterested thinking." 
 Dr. Pusey and Dr. Newman, representatives 
 of the vital movement in the direction of spirit 
 ual supernaturalism, were thinking and writing. 
 Thomas Arnold and F. D. Maurice were trying 
 to broaden the Church of England in the direc 
 tion of human progress, so that it might em 
 brace heaven and earth, faith and philosophy, 
 creed and criticism. Carlyle was thundering 
 against shams in religion and politics. Dickena 
 was showing up the abuses, cruelties, and iniq 
 uities of the established order. Kingsley was 
 stirring the caldron of social discontent. The 
 teaching of George Combe was heralded as an 
 inspiration. Cobden was inaugurating a new 
 era in industrial undertakings. The corn-la\r 
 agitation was started. John Bright and Dan 
 iel O Connell were busy at their work of de 
 Btroying monopolies. In France as well as in 
 
1.10 GEORGE RIPLEJ 
 
 England, in tact all over Europe, the seeds wertj 
 ripening for the great revolt of 1818. 
 
 The influence of the new ideas was felt in the 
 United States. The Communist experiment 
 in Brazil was started in 1841 ; the Hopedale 
 Community in 1842 ; Robert Owen s enter- 
 prise may be said to have reached its highest 
 level in 1826 ; the writings of Charles Fourier 
 were interpreted here by Albert Brisbane and 
 Horace Greeley, as early as 1842. No fewer 
 than eleven experiments followed Owen s ; no 
 fewer than thirty-four were creations of the 
 impetus given, directly or indirectly, by Fou 
 rier. The "enthusiasm of humanity" was 
 widespread. We have the testimony of James 
 Martineau to the fact that Dr. Channing, for a 
 time, fell under the fascination of some of the 
 speculative writers that abounded at that time, 
 who held forth the promise of a Golden Age foi 
 society ; writers like Rousseau, Godwin, Mary 
 Wollstonecraft, the Pantisocratists like Southey 
 and Coleridge, who actually entertained the 
 thought of going to America to plant an ideal 
 society. Similar plans were eagerly discussed 
 among the friends of progress in Boston, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ripley being prominent as talkers and 
 sympathetic as listeners. One of the most sus 
 ceptible and ardent was Mrs. Ripley, a woman 
 of burning enthusiasm, warm feeling, and pas 
 
BROOK FARM. 1H 
 
 aionate will. Theodore Parker made the fol 
 lowing entry in his journal : " Mrs. Ripley gave 
 me a tacit rebuke for not shrieking at wrongs, 
 and spoke of the danger of losing our humanity 
 in abstractions." 
 
 That so strong a feeling, animating com 
 manding minds, kindling the circle in which he 
 was intimate, should have possessed, and even 
 carried away, a man wearied by the toil, and 
 disappointed in the results, of a long ministry 
 which he had for years been feeling was uncon 
 genial, is not surprising. If he could have fore- 
 been the end from the beginning, the hard, in 
 cessant, anxious toil, the meagreness of popular 
 sympathy, the waning of hopes, the final disap 
 pointment ; if he could have felt the precarious- 
 ness of the effort, its hopelessness in view of the 
 existing social order, its ineffectiveness in that 
 form, as a scheme for regenerating mankind, 
 he would probably have hesitated longer than 
 he did, perhaps have withdrawn entirely. But 
 at that period there seemed little cause for mis 
 giving. The heavenly Jerusalem was in the 
 clouds, waiting to descend. The believer was 
 justified in the persuasion that the time for its 
 appearing had come. The disciples were gath 
 ered ; the iniquity of the world was full ; the 
 angel had put the trumpet to his lips. 
 
 The earliest articles of association are here 
 given : 
 
112 GEORGE RIPLE7. 
 
 ARTICLES OF ASSOCIATION OF THE SUBSCRIBERS 
 TO THE BROOK FARM INSTITUTE OF AGRICULT 
 URE AND EDUCATION. 
 
 Articles of Association made and executed this 
 twenty-ninth day of September, one thousand eight 
 hundred and forty-one, by and between the several 
 persons and their assigns, who have given their sig 
 natures to this instrument and by it associated them 
 selves together for the purpose and objects herein 
 after set forth : 
 
 ART. I. The name and style of this Association 
 shall be The Subscribers to the Brook Farm Insti 
 tute of Agriculture and Education ; and all persons 
 who shall hold one or more shares of the stock of the 
 Association shall be members ; and every member 
 shall be entitled to one vote on all matters relating to 
 the funds of the Association. 
 
 ART. II. The object of the Association is to pur 
 chase such estates as may be required for the estab 
 lishment and continuance of an agricultural, literary, 
 and scientific school or college, to provide such lands 
 and houses, animals, libraries and apparatus, as may 
 be found expedient or advantageous to the main pur 
 pose of the Association. 
 
 ART. III. The whole property of the Association, 
 real and personal, shall be vested in and held by Four 
 Trustees to be elected annually by the Association. 
 
 ART. IV. No shareholder shall be liable to any 
 assessment whatever on the shares held by him, nor 
 hall he be held responsible individually in his private 
 
BROOK FARM. 113 
 
 property on account of this Association ; nor shall the 
 Trustees, or any officer or agent of the Association, 
 have any authority to do anything which shall impose 
 personal responsibility on any shareholder by making 
 any contracts or incurring any debts for which the 
 shareholders shall be individually or personally re 
 sponsible. 
 
 ART. V. All conveyances to be taken for lands or 
 other real estate purchased by the Association in pur 
 suance of these articles shall be made to the Trustees, 
 their successors in office or survivors as joint tenants, 
 and not as tenants in common. 
 
 ART. VI. The Association guarantees to each 
 shareholder the interest of five per cent, annually on 
 the amount of stock held by him in the Association, 
 and this interest may be paid in certificates of stock 
 and credited on the books of the Association ; pro 
 vided, however, that each shareholder may, at the 
 time of the annual settlement, draw on the funds of 
 the Association, not otherwise appropriated, to an 
 amount not exceeding that of the interest credited in 
 his favor. 
 
 ART. VII. The shareholders on their part, for 
 themselves, their heirs and assigns, do renounce all 
 claim on any profits accruing to the Association for 
 the use of their capital invested in the stock of the 
 Association, except five per cent, interest on the 
 amount of stock held by them, payable in the man 
 ner described in the preceding article. 
 
 ART. VIII. Every subscriber may receive the tui 
 tion of one pupil for every share held by him, instead 
 
114 GEORGE RIPLEJ. 
 
 of five per cent, interest, as stated above, or tuition 
 to an amount not exceeding twenty per cent, interest 
 on his investment. 
 
 ART. IX. No share shall be transferred from one 
 person to another without the consent of the Trustees, 
 nor shall any such transfer be valid without their sig 
 nature. 
 
 ART. X. Every shareholder may withdraw his 
 amount of stock and whatever interest is due thereon, 
 by giving twelve months notice to the Trustees of the 
 Association. 
 
 ART. XL The capital stock of the Association, 
 now consisting of Twelve Thousand Dollars, shall be 
 divided into shares of Five Hundred Dollars each, 
 and may be increased to any amount at the pleasure 
 of the Association. 
 
 ART. XII. These articles, it is understood and 
 agreed on, are intended for the safe, legal, and orderly 
 holding and management of such property real and 
 personal as shall further the purposes of the " Brook 
 Farm Institute of Agriculture and Education," to 
 which Institute this Association of subscribers is sub 
 ordinate and auxiliary. 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 "We, the undersigned, do hereby agree to pay the 
 sum attached to our names, to be invested in the 
 Brook Farm Institute of Agriculture and Education, 
 according to the conditions described in the foregoing 
 Articles of Association. 
 
 Date, 1841. 
 
BROOK FARM. 115 
 
 NAMES. 
 Geo. Ripley . . . 
 Nath. Hawthorne . 
 
 SHARES. I 
 No. 1, 2, and 3 . . . . $1 
 " 18 and 19 .... 1 
 " 4, 5, and 6 .... 
 
 tons. 
 ,500 
 1,000 
 ,500 
 ,500 
 ,500 
 ,000 
 ,000 
 ,000 
 ,500 
 500 
 
 Charles A. Dana . 
 William B. Allen . 
 Sophia W. Ripley . 
 Maria T. Pratt . . 
 Sarah F. Stearns . 
 Marianne Ripley . 
 Charles O. Whitmore 
 
 " 10, 11, and 12 ... 
 " 7, 8, and 9 . . . . 
 " 16 and 17 .... 
 " 20 and 21 .... 
 " 22 and 23 .... 
 " 13, 14, and 15 . . . 
 " 24 . 
 
 OFFICERS. 
 
 At a meeting of the Brook Farm Institute of Agri 
 culture and Education, held on Wednesday, Septem 
 ber 29, 1841, the following persons were appointed 
 to office as follows : 
 
 General Direction. 
 
 Geo. Ripley, Minot Pratt, 
 
 Wm. B. Allen. 
 
 Direction of Finance. 
 Nath. Hawthorne, Chas. A. Dana, 
 
 Wm. B. Allen. 
 
 Direction of Agriculture. 
 
 Wm. B. Allen, Minot Pratt, 
 
 Geo. Ripley. 
 
 Direction of Education. 
 
 Sophia W. Ripley, Charles A. Dana, 
 
 Marianne Ripley. 
 
 Charles A. Dana was appointed Recording Secre- 
 
116 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 tary, and Minot Pratt, Treasurer ; and the meeting 
 adjourned. 
 
 CHAS. ANDERSON DANA, Secretary. 
 
 At a meeting of the Brook Farm Institute of Agri 
 culture and Education on Saturday last, October 30, 
 41, the following votes were passed : 
 Voted, 1. To transfer the Institution recently car 
 ried on by George Ripley to the Brook Farm Insti 
 tute of Agriculture and Education from and after No 
 vember 1, 1841, according to the conditions stated in 
 the instrument of this date, and signed by George 
 Ripley, William B. Allen, and Charles A. Dana. 
 
 2. To transfer the establishment recently carried 
 on by Marianne Ripley to the Brook Farm Institute, 
 from and after November 1, 1841, according to the 
 conditions stated in the instrument referred to in the 
 above vote. 
 
 3. That, in the annual settlement with individual 
 members, each member shall be allowed board in pro 
 portion to the time employed for the Association : 
 that is, one year s board for one year s labor ; one 
 half year s board for one half year s labor ; and if no 
 labor is done, the whole board shall be charged. 
 
 4. That the price of board charged to the Asso 
 ciates shall be $4.00 per week, until otherwise or 
 dered, including house-rent, fuel, light, and washing. 
 
 5. That three hundred days labor shall be consid 
 sred equal to one year s labor, and shall entitle a per 
 son to one share of the annual dividend, and no allow 
 
 shall be made for a greater amount of labor. 
 
 6. That sixty hours shall be considered equal to 
 
BROOK FARM. 117 
 
 lix days labcr for the months of May, June, July, 
 August, September, and October, inclusive ; forty- 
 eight hours, from November to April, inclusive. 
 
 7. That for children of the associates, over ten 
 years of age, board shall be charged at half the estab 
 lished rate. 
 
 8. That the price of board and tuition shall be 
 $4.00 a week for boys, and $5.00 a week for girls 
 over twelve years of age ; and $3.50 a week for chil 
 dren under that age, exclusive of washing and sepa 
 rate fire. CHAS. ANDERSON DANA, Secretary. 
 
 The " Brook Farm Association for Education 
 and Agriculture," was put in motion in the 
 spring of 1841. There was no difficulty in col 
 lecting a company of men and women large 
 enough to make a beginning. One third of the 
 subscriptions was actually paid in, Mr. Ripley 
 pledging his library for four hundred dollars of 
 his amount. With the sum subscribed a farm 
 of a little less than two hundred acres was 
 bought for ten thousand five hundred dollars, 
 in West Roxbury, about nine miles from Bos 
 ton. The site was a pleasant one, not far from 
 Theodore Parker s meeting-house in Spring 
 Street, arid in close vicinity to some of the most 
 wealthy, capable, and zealous friends of the en 
 terprise. It was charmingly diversified with 
 hill and hollow, meadow and upland. It pos- 
 lessed, moreover, historical associations, which 
 
118 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 were interesting to its new occupants. Here 
 the " apostle " Eliot preached to the Indians 
 his grave was hard by. The birth-place was 
 not far distant of General Warren, of Revolu 
 tionary fame. The spot seemed peculiarly ap 
 propriate to the uses it was now set apart for. 
 Later experience showed its unfitness for lucra 
 tive tillage, but for an institute of education, 
 a semi-assthetic, humane undertaking, nothing 
 could be better. 
 
 This is the place to say, once for all, with the 
 utmost possible emphasis, that Brook Farm was 
 not a " community " in the usual sense of the 
 term. There was no element of " socialism " 
 in it. There was about it no savor of antino- 
 mianism, no taint of pessimism, no aroma, how 
 ever faint, of nihilism. It was wholly unlike 
 any of the " religious " associations which had 
 been established in generations before, or any 
 of the atheistic or mechanical arrangements 
 which were attempted simultaneously or after 
 wards. Dr. Channing had said, in a letter to 
 Rev. Adin Ballou, dated February 27, 1841, 
 two months before the beginning of Brook 
 Farm, " I have for a very long time dreamed 
 of an association in which the members, instead 
 of preying on one another, and seeking to put 
 .me another down, after the fashion of thia 
 world, should live together as brothers, seeking 
 &ne another s elevation and spiritual growth " 
 
BROOK FARM. 119 
 
 The institution of Brook Farm, though far 
 from being "religious" in the usual sense of 
 the word, was enthusiastically religious in spirit 
 and purpose. The faith in the divinity of nat 
 ural impulse may have been excessive, but em 
 phasis was so strongly laid on the divinity that 
 the common dangers of following impulse were 
 avoided. Confidence in freedom may have been 
 exaggerated, but, inasmuch as the freedom was 
 interpreted as freedom to become wise and good, 
 simple and self-sacrificing, gentle and kind, its 
 earthward tendency was no cause of anxiety. 
 There was no theological creed, no ecclesiastical 
 form, no inquisition into opinions, no avowed 
 reliance on superhuman aid. The thoughts of 
 all were heartily respected ; and while some 
 listened with sympathy to Theodore Parker, 
 others went to church nowhere, or sought the 
 privileges of their own communion. At the 
 funeral of one who died in the Episcopal faith, 
 the services were conducted in accordance with 
 that ritual. There were many Swedenborgians 
 in the company ; in fact, there was a decided 
 leaning towards the views of the Swedish mys 
 tic ; but no attempt was made to fashion opin 
 ion in that or in any other mould. The spirit 
 of hope in the Association was too elevated for 
 that. It has been well said that the aim of the 
 Association was practical, not theoretical, not 
 
120 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 transcendental, not intellectual ; in the same 
 breath it must be added that it was, in a high 
 sense, spiritual ; that it was practical because it 
 was spiritual ; that while it aimed at the phys 
 ical and mental elevation of the poorer classes, 
 it did so because it believed in their natural ca 
 pacity for elevation as children of God. The 
 leaders trusted in the power of light and love, 
 in natural truth and justice, and were persuaded 
 that the world could be helped by nothing else. 
 They believed, therefore they toiled. 
 
 More than this, they felt themselves to be 
 Christians. The name of Jesus was always 
 spoken with earnest reverence. Mr. W. H. 
 Channing, then as now an enthusiastic preacher 
 of gospel righteousness, was a welcome prophet 
 among them. Their discussions were always 
 within the limits of the Christian dispensation, 
 never conducted in the interest of denial or 
 skepticism. In a word, the faith in mental 
 freedom was so cordial, sincere, hospitable, that 
 no intrusion of the sectarian temper was pos 
 Bible ; and the persuasion was so clear that the 
 various forms of religious faith were but so 
 many adaptations to spiritual need, that none 
 were tempted to do more than set forth the at 
 tractions of their own favorite worship. 
 
 In an article written for the " Democratic Re^ 
 riew " of November, 1842, the editor, Orestei 
 
BROOK FARM. 121 
 
 i 
 
 A. Brownson, defined Brook Farm as an In 
 dustrial Establishment, quoting its founder to 
 that effect. After giving the u clerical " answer 
 to the social problem, the "ethical" answer, the 
 answer of the " politician," the " political econ 
 omist," the " socialist," I Mr. Brownson declares 
 his preference for Brook Farm, as being sim 
 ple, unpretending, and presenting itself " by no 
 means as a grand scheme of world reform, or of 
 social organization." He describes their leader 
 as " a man of rare attainments, one of our best 
 scholars, as a metaphysician second to no one 
 in the country, and says : " A few men and 
 women, of like views and feelings, grouped 
 themselves around him, not as their master, but 
 as their friend and brother." They " leave the 
 State and Church standing in all their necessity 
 and force." " It essentially breaks the family 
 caste, while it preserves the family inviola^."/ 
 " Individual property is recognized and sacred. 
 But, by making time, not skill nor intensity, the 
 basis according to which the compensation of 
 labor is determined, and by eating at a common 
 table, and laboring in common and sharing in 
 common the advantages of the individual excel 
 lence there may be in the community, the indi 
 vidual feeling is subdued, and, while suffered to 
 remain as a spring of industry, it is shorn of its 
 power to encroach on the social body." The 
 
122 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 letter printed along with the article the occa 
 eion, in fact, of its being written dwells on the 
 Christian democracy of the establishment, the 
 good-will, the admirable teaching, the cheerful 
 toil, the happiness of the children, the service- 
 ableness of the women, the diligence in farm, 
 garden, and fruit culture, the cordial humanity, 
 the glad self-sacrifice, the extraordinary com 
 bination of religious exaltation with aesthetic 
 taste. 
 
 A sympathizing critic published in the " Dial 
 (January, 1842) an account of the enterprise as 
 it then appeared : 
 
 The attempt is made on a very small scale. A 
 few individuals who, unknown to each other, under 
 different disciplines of life, reacting from different so 
 cial evils, but aiming at the same object, of being 
 wholly true to their natures as men and women, 
 have been made acquainted with one another, and 
 have determined to become the faculty of the embryo 
 university. 
 
 In order to live a religious and moral life worthy 
 the name, they feel it is necessary to come out in 
 gome degree from the world, and to form themselves 
 into a community of property, so far as to exclude 
 competition and the ordinary rules of trade; while 
 they reserve sufficient private property, or the means 
 of obtaining it, for all purposes of independence and 
 isolation at will. They have bought a farm in ordei 
 to make agriculture the basis of their life, it being 
 
BROOK FARM. 123 
 
 the most direct and simple in relation to nature. A 
 true life, although it aims beyond the highest star, is 
 redolent of the healthy earth. The perfume of clo 
 ver lingers about it. The lowing of cattle is the nat 
 ural bass to the melody of human voices. 
 
 /The plan of the Community, as an economy, is, in 
 brief, this : for all who have property to take stock, 
 and receive a fixed interest thereon ; then to keep 
 house or board in common, as they shall severally de 
 sire, at the cost of provisions purchased at wholesale, 
 or raised on the farm ; and for all to labor in com 
 munity and be paid at a certain rate an hour, choos 
 ing their own number of hours and their own kind 
 of work. With the results of this labor arid their 
 interest they are to pay their board, and also pur 
 chase whatever else they require, at cost, at the ware 
 houses of the community, which are to be filled by 
 the community as such. To perfect this economy, in 
 the course of time they must have all trades and all 
 modes of business carried on among themselves, from 
 the lowest mechanical trade which contributes to the 
 health and comfort of life, to the finest art which 
 adorns it with food or drapery for the mind. 4 ^ All 
 labor, whether bodily or intellectual, is to be paid at 
 the same rate of wages, on the principle that, as the 
 labor becomes merely bodily, it is a greater sacrifice 
 to the individual laborer to give his time to ity be 
 cause time is desirable for the cultivation of the intel 
 lect, in exact proportion to ignorance. 
 //Besides, intellectual labor involves in itself higher 
 pleasures, and is more its own reward, than bodily 
 
124 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 .abor.v Another reason for setting the same pecun 
 iary value on every kind of labor is to give outward 
 expression to the great truth that all labor is sacred 
 when done for a common interest. Saints and phi 
 losophers already know this, but the childish world 
 does not ; and very decided measures must be taken 
 to equalize labor in the eyes of the young of the 
 community, who are not beyond the moral influences 
 of the world without them. The community will 
 have nothing done within its precincts but what is 
 done by its own members, who stand all in social 
 equality : that the children may not " learn to expect 
 one kind of service from Love and Goodwill, another 
 from the obligation of others to render it," a griev 
 ance of the common society, stated by one of the 
 associated mothers as destructive of the soul s sim 
 plicity. Consequently, as the Universal Education; 
 will involve all kinds of operations necessary to the 
 comforts and elegances of life, every associate, even 
 if he be the digger of a ditch as his highest accom 
 plishment, will be an instructor in that to the young 
 members. 
 
 Nor will this elevation of bodily labor be liable to 
 lower the tone of manners and refinement in the com 
 munity. The "children of light" are not altogether 
 unwise in their generation. They have an invisible 
 but all-powerful guard of principles. Minds incapa 
 ble of refinement will not be attracted into this asso 
 ciation. It is an Ideal Community, and only to the 
 "deally inclined will it be attractive ; but these are to 
 be found in every rank of life, under every shadow oJ 
 
BROOK FARM. 125 
 
 circumstance. Even among the diggers of the ditch 
 are to be found some who, through religious cultiva 
 tion, can look down in meek superiority upon the 
 outwardly refined and the book learned. 
 
 Besides, after becoming members of this commu 
 nity, none will be engaged merely in bodily labor. 
 The hours of labor for the association will be limited 
 by a general law, and can be curtailed at the will of 
 the individual still more ; and means will be given to 
 all for intellectual improvement, and for social inter 
 course calculated to refine and expand. The hours 
 redeemed from labor by community will not be reap- 
 plied to the acquisition of wealth, but to the produc 
 tion of intellectual good. This community aims to 
 be rich, not in the metallic representation of wealth, 
 but in the wealth itself, which money should repre 
 sent, namely, leisure to live in all the faculties of the 
 soul. As a community, it will traffic with the world 
 at large in the products of agricultural labor ; and it 
 will sell education to as many young persons as can 
 be domesticated in the families, and enter into the 
 common life with their own children. In the end it 
 hopes to be enabled to provide not only all the neces 
 saries, but all the elegances desirable for bodily and 
 for spiritual health : books, apparatus, collections for 
 science, works of art, means of beautiful amusement. 
 These things are to be common to all ; and thus that 
 object, which alone gilds and refines the passion for 
 individual accumulation will no longer exist for de- 
 lire, and, whenever the sordid passion appears, it wilj 
 be seen in its naked selfishness. In its ultimate sue- 
 
126 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 cess the community will realize all the ends which 
 selfishness seeks, but involved in spiritual blessings 
 which only greatness of soul can aspire after. And 
 the requisitions on the individuals, it is believed, will 
 make this the order forever. The spiritual good will 
 always be the condition of the temporal. 
 
 Every one must labor for the community, in a rea 
 sonable degree, or not taste its benefits. The prin 
 ciples of the organization, therefore, and not its prob 
 able results in future time, will determine its members. 
 These principles are cooperation in social matters, 
 instead of competition or balance of interests ; and 
 ndividual self-unfolding, in the faith that the whole 
 soul of humanity is in each man and woman. The 
 former is the application of the love of man, the lat 
 ter of the love of God, to life. Whoever is satis 
 fied with society as it is, whose sense of justice is not 
 wounded by its common action, institutions, spirit of 
 commerce, has no business with this community ; nei 
 ther has any one who is willing to have other men 
 (needing more time for intellectual cultivation than 
 himself) give their best hours and strength to bodily 
 labor, to secure himself immunity therefrom. And 
 whoever does not measure what society owes to its 
 members, of cherishing and instruction, by the needs 
 of the individuals that compose it, has no lot in this 
 new society. Whoever is willing to receive from hig 
 fellow-men that for which he gives no equivalent will 
 itay away from its precincts forever. 
 
 From this extract it will be seen that the in 
 
BROOK FARM. 12? 
 
 terests of the higher education, the cultivation 
 of mind and soul, lay very near the heart of 
 the noble founder of Brook Farm. He himself 
 said : " We are a company of teachers. The 
 branch of industry which we pursue as our 
 primary object and chief means of support is 
 teaching." 1 
 
 In regard to individual teachers, it is enough 
 to say that Mr. Ripley himself taught Intellect 
 ual and Moral Philosophy and Mathematics ; 
 Mrs. Ripley was instructor in History and Mod 
 ern Languages ; George P. Bradford took the 
 department of Belles Lettres ; Charles A. Dana 
 had classes in Greek and German ; John 8. 
 D wight imparted knowledge in Latin and Mu 
 sic; others were employed in the primary and 
 infant schools. There was an instructor in 
 Drawing ; a teacher also in theoretical and prac 
 tical Agriculture. Such time as was not occu 
 pied in teaching might be devoted to such pur 
 suits as inclination suggested, farming, gar 
 dening, the cultivation of trees, fruits, flowers, 
 or some branch of domestic service. There was 
 always enough to do. Mr. Ripley liked to milk 
 cows, saying that such occupation was eminently 
 favorable to contemplation, particularly when 
 he cow s tail was looped up behind. | He would 
 also go out in the early morning and help clean 
 the stable, a foul and severe task, which, it 
 1 See Appendix. 
 
128 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 be presumed, he undertook by way of illustrat 
 ing the principle of self-sacrifice which was at 
 the basis of the experiment. | His wife worked 
 in the laundry until the necessity of economiz 
 ing strength compelled her to resort to lighter 
 labor, in which her natural elegance and refine 
 ment of judgment were required. When con 
 venient, the men did women s work ; the " Gen 
 eral," for example, made all the bread and cake 
 and some of the pastry. On occasion chiefs 
 if such a term may be allowed acted as wait 
 ers at table. Everybody was ready for any 
 needed or available service. The place was a 
 bee-hive. The head-farmer was hired, most of 
 the members being literary men, unacquainted 
 with the needs of the soil ; but, as a rule, the 
 work was done by members. 
 
 The establishment of the school was imme 
 diate. In two years the number of scholars 
 was about thirty in a community of seventy. 
 The original pioneers numbered about twenty. 
 There were never more than one hundred and 
 fifty. The teaching was of a high order, not so 
 much by reason of the accomplishment of the 
 instructors, as in consequence of the singular 
 enthusiasm which animated all concerned in it, 
 pupils no less than preceptors. Especially in 
 music was the standard of taste exacting what 
 ever may be said of the attainment. The boys 
 
BROOK FARM. 129 
 
 and girls at Brook Farm were familiar with 
 the compositions of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, 
 Mendelssohn, Schubert, before the initiation 
 began elsewhere. (There was a genuine passion 
 for improvement in intellectual arts, a thirst for 
 knowledge, a hunger for mental stimulus of a 
 powerful kind. / When Margaret Fuller visited 
 the institution, and gave one of her eloquent, 
 oracular talks, the interest caught up old and 
 young. Miss Fuller visited Brook Farm, but 
 did not live there ; neither did Emerson ; nei 
 ther did W. H. Channing ; neither did Theo 
 dore Parker ; neither did C. P. Cranch, though 
 all came more or less often, and manifested a 
 sincere interest. Many eminent persons came 
 as observers of the experiment, Orestes A. 
 Brownson, James Walker, Bronson Alcott, and 
 others of less note. The undertaking was so in 
 teresting that few people who had at heart the 
 condition of society remained wholly aloof from 
 it. The public curiosity was insatiable. Dur 
 ing one year more than four thousand visitors 
 came. Every fine day brought a crowd. The 
 multitude became occasionally an incumbrance. 
 The time of the members was uncomfortably 
 encroached on ; their occupations were dis 
 turbed. It became necessary at last to charge 
 % small fee for their entertainment in case they 
 required lunch or dinner. Among the callers, 
 9 
 
130 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 to show how miscellaneous were their motives, 
 was the notorious Mike Walsh, who, it is safe 
 to say, was not attracted by any interest in the 
 higher problems of society. The experiment 
 was on too small a scale to engage the attention 
 of deeply theoretical minds, or to be widely 
 significant. Charles Nordhoff, in his history 
 of communistic societies in the United States, 
 makes no mention of Brook Farm. But the 
 eminence of its founder, the high aims of his 
 associates, the well-known sympathy of several 
 distinguished people, the prevalence throughout 
 the community of views similar, at least, to 
 those which animated the association, exerted 
 an influence far beyond its actual domain. It 
 was the earthly base of a celestial idea ; a house 
 in the clouds ; a " castle in Spain " ; none the 
 less but rather so much the more, a castle, for 
 having its towers in the sky. 
 
 The applications for admission were numer 
 ous, and, for the most part, from people who 
 quite mistook the object the founders had in 
 view. ,/The well-to-do people of the world, the 
 contented, the comfortable, the ambitious, the 
 successful who had attained, the energetic who 
 hoped to attain, the large class of unthinking, 
 conventional people, young or old, rich or poor, 
 educated or uneducated, had no concern with 
 and never came near the institution. To there 
 
BROOK FARM. 131 
 
 it was a utopia, visionary, chimerical, notional 
 absurd, a butt for ridicule. But the hungry of 
 heart, the democratic, the aspiring, the senti 
 mental, the poor in spirit or in purse, those 
 who sought a refuge or a place of rest ; in some 
 instances those who desired an easy, unlabori- 
 ous, irresponsible life, knocked for admission at 
 the door. The nature of these overtures can 
 readily be fancied by those who may be a little 
 acquainted with the working of philanthropic 
 establishments ; but for the benefit of such as 
 may need enlightenment on this point, a few 
 letters are here inserted with one of Mr. Rip- 
 ley s replies : 
 
 MASS., October 12, 1844. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I take the liberty of inquiring of you 
 whether you can admit into your fraternity a literary 
 old man, aged fifty-four years, who may be able to 
 work perhaps six, eight, or ten hours per day. The 
 work must be, at least at first, somewhat light, as he 
 has neeer been used to any kind of manual labor, 
 Of late years his attention has been so much de 
 voted to association and peace that he is fit for but lit 
 tle, if any, of the common business of the world, out 
 of an association. He will bring no money, no funds 
 whatever, and no influence into your community* 
 He only desires to be and live and work and coop 
 erate with others ; where he can do as he would . be 
 done by, and contribute his feeble example in favor 
 of a better order of society than our present antag 
 vnistical selfishism. 
 
132 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 By giving me such information per mail as you 
 may deem expedient, you will oblige, sir, 
 
 Your obedient servant. 
 
 June 1, 1843. 
 
 / DEAR SIR, I have an earnest and well-maturec 
 desire to join your community with my family, if ] 
 can do it under satisfactory circumstances, I mean 
 satisfactory to all parties. I am pastor of the First 
 Congregational Church in this town. My congrega 
 tion is quiet, and in many respects very pleasant ; 
 but I have felt that my views of late are not suffi 
 ciently in accordance with the forms under which I 
 have undertaken to conduct the ministry of Christian 
 truth. This want of accordance increases, and I feel 
 that a crisis is at hand. I must follow the light that 
 guides me, or renounce it to become false and dead. 
 The latter I cannot do. I have thought of joining 
 your association ever since its commencement. Is it 
 wossible for me to do so under satisfactory circum 
 stances ? 
 
 I have deep, and I believe intelligent sympathy 
 with your idea. I have a wife and four children, the 
 oldest ten, the youngest seven years old. Our habits 
 of life are very simple, very independent of slavery 
 to the common forms of " gigmanity," and our bodies 
 have not been made to waste and pine by the fashion 
 able follies of this generation. It is our creed that 
 life is greater than all forms, and that the soul s life 
 diviner than the conveniences of fashion. 
 
 As to property we can bring you little more thai, 
 
BROOK FARM. 
 
 ourselves. But we can bring a hearty good-will to 
 work, and in work we have some skill. I have un 
 impaired health, and an amount of muscular strength, 
 beyond what ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. In 
 the early part of my life I labored on a farm, filling 
 up my leisure time with study, until I entered my 
 present profession. My hands have some skill for 
 many things ; and if I join you I wish to live a true 
 life. My selfish aims are two : first, I wish to be 
 under circumstances where I may live truly ; and 
 second and chiefly I wish to do the best thing for my 
 children. 
 
 Be so good as to reply to this at your earliest con 
 venience. Yours, sincerely. 
 
 WATERTOWN, February 4, 1843. 
 
 MESSRS. OF THE COMMUNITY AT WEST Rox- 
 BURY, I am induced to address you partly at the 
 request of several gentlemen who have formed an 
 association in this place for the purpose of inquiring 
 into the principles of Fourier s plan for meliorating 
 the condition of the human race,, and also from an 
 intense anxiety on my own part to know the practi 
 cal working of the plan which you have adopted in 
 your community, and which is said in the public pa 
 pers to resemble, if not exactly to carry out in detail, 
 the one recommended by the above mentioned writer. 
 
 If you will have the goodness to answer the fol 
 lowing interrogatories, you will not only confer a 
 Tavor on myself and those gentlemen who are now 
 investigating this subject in this place, but, by giving 
 
134 GEORGE R1PLET. 
 
 Buch information as is the result of your experience, 
 I trust you will aid the cause of the poor and op 
 pressed, and be instrumental in mitigating the mise 
 ries and afflictions of all conditions and classes of 
 men : How long since you first organized your soci 
 ety ? How many associates were there at first ? 
 What was the average amount in money or property 
 that each one contributed to commence with ? Of 
 how many acres does your farm consist ? What was 
 the cost per acre and the terms of payment ? If pur 
 chased on time, have you been able, from the pro 
 ceeds of your farm and other products of your own 
 industry, to sustain the society and meet the payments 
 as they became due ? What is the present number 
 of persons in your association, and in what ratio have 
 they increased ? Do you have many applications for 
 admission, and what are the qualifications requisite 
 for an associate, either in a moral, intellectual, or 
 pecuniary point of view ? In the present state of 
 things, do you think it necessary to success that such 
 a community as yours should be located near a large 
 town or city? Have any become dissatisfied and 
 withdrawn from your community, and, in case they 
 do leave, are they allowed to take the capital they in 
 vested and their earnings ? According to your regu- 
 ations, can you expel a member ? Have you a writ 
 ten constitution, and, if so, what are its most promi 
 nent features ? Does each member choose his or her 
 employment, and work at it when they please ? Have 
 you any particular system for educating the children 
 who belong to your community ? Do you intend to 
 
BROOK FARM. 135 
 
 give them what is generally termed a classical educa 
 tion ? Have you a common fund, and, if so, how is 
 it raised, and how are the persons chosen who con 
 trol it ? Do you all eat at a common table, and, if 
 BO, could a family or an individual, if they preferred 
 it, have their meals in apartments by themselves ? 
 Do you think a sufficient time has elapsed since the 
 formation of your society for you or others to judge 
 tolerably correctly of the utility of such associations, 
 by your experiment ? 
 
 Gentlemen, we can, of course, expect only brief 
 answers to these inquiries ; but we trust you will do 
 us the justice to believe that we are actuated by no 
 idle curiosity in thus seeking information. 
 
 UTICA, January 18, 1844. 
 
 SIR, I have the happiness of being acquainted 
 with a lady who has some knowledge of you, from 
 whose representations I am encouraged to hope that 
 you will not only excuse the liberty I (being a stran 
 ger) thus take in addressing you, but will also kindly 
 answer a number of questions I am desirous of being 
 informed upon, relative to the society for social re 
 form to which you belong. 
 
 I have a daughter (having five children), who with 
 her husband much wish to join a society of this kind : 
 they have had thoughts of engaging with a society 
 now forming in Rochester, but their friends advise 
 them to go to one that has been some time in opera 
 tion, because those connected with it will be able to 
 jpeak with certainty as to whether the working ol 
 the system in any way realizes the theory. 
 
136 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 1. The first question I would put is, Have you 
 room in your association to admit the above family ? 
 
 2. And if so, upon what terms would they be re 
 ceived ? 
 
 3. Would a piano-forte, which two years ago cost 
 $350, be taken at its present value in payment for 
 Bhares ? 
 
 4. Would any household furniture be taken in the 
 same way ? 
 
 5. Do you carry out M. Fourier s idea of diversity 
 of employment? 
 
 6. How many members have you at this time ? 
 
 7. Do the people, generally speaking, appear 
 happy ? 
 
 8. Would a young man, a mechanic, of unexcep 
 tional character, be received, having no capital ? 
 
 9. Does the system work well with the children ? 
 
 10. Have you not more than one church, and, if 
 so, what are its tenets ? 
 
 11. Have parties opportunities of enjoying any 
 other religion ? 
 
 12. What number of hours are generally employed 
 in labor? 
 
 13. What chance for study ? 
 
 14. Do you meet with society suitable to your 
 taste ? 
 
 Although my questions are so numerous that I fear 
 tiring you, yet I still feel that I may have omitted 
 borne inquiry of importance. If so, will you do me 
 .he favor to supply the deficiency ? 
 
 riease to answer my questions by number, as they 
 
BROOK FARM. 137 
 
 are put. Hoping you will write as soon as possible 
 I remain yours respectfully. 
 
 BOSTON, Feb. the 13. 1844. 
 
 SUR, As I have hurd something About the sade 
 broofarm, I thairfore take the Pleasure of wrighting 
 A fue lines to you dear sur, to inform you sur of my 
 mind about the sade place. I think sur that I should 
 like to joine you boath in hart and hand. I am now 
 stopping at the united states hotell boston, thair is 
 one Mr. thomas Whitch is going with you in Apr. 
 next he is a friend of mine I. think I. would like 
 to go with him if I. could I. am tiard of liveing in 
 the city I. would like to change my life if I. could 
 be of any service to you in brookfarm I. think I. d 
 like to Join you and do all in my power to premote 
 the cause. I. would like to know the rules of the 
 community if you sur Wright a fue lines to me and 
 direct them to the united states hotell I. would be 
 very happy to recive. indeed I. think I. would like 
 to work on the farm this summer I should like to 
 know what I should be alowed the first year. I. 
 would like to lurn some trade in the winter. I. am 
 
 single my age is 19. my name I hope sur that 
 
 you may soon wright me a letter Whare I. may have 
 the pleashure of seeing you soon. I. have more to 
 say sur when I see you. I. would like to see you 
 this week if possible. F. F. C., Boston. 
 
 I will try to come out with my friend in the course 
 of a week or two if I. do not see you before, but 
 please wright me a letter if I do not see you. 
 
138 GEORGE R1PLEY. 
 
 BOSTON, March 1, 1844. 
 
 MR. GEOROE RIPLEY, Pres. of the west roxbry asso 
 ciation : 
 
 as I wish to goin your society and not knoing 
 the termes on wich members are admited I wish to 
 be informed and the amount wich must be paid in. 
 thare is six in the famely and as I am poor I wish to 
 know the least sum wich we can be admited for. if 
 you will pleaze to write and inform mee of the pertic- 
 ulars you will oblige your humble servent, 
 
 July 13, 1845. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Will you step aside for a moment 
 from the many duties, the interesting cares, and soul- 
 stirring pleasures of your enviable situation and read 
 a few lines from a stranger ? They come to you not 
 from the cold and sterile regions of the north, nor 
 from the luxuriant, yet untamed wilds of the west, 
 but from the bright and sunny land where cotton 
 flowers bloom ; where nature has placed her signet 
 of beauty and fertility. Yes, sir, the science that 
 the immortal Fouriar brought to light has reached the 
 far south, and I trust has warmed many hearts and 
 interested many minds ; but of one alone will I write. 
 It is to me a dawn of a brighter day than has ever 
 yet risen upon the world a day when man shall be 
 redeemed from his more than " Egyptian bondage," 
 and stand erect in moral, intellectual, and physical 
 beauty. I have lived forty years in the world, and 
 divided that time between the Eastern, Middle, and 
 Southern States ; have seen life as exhibited in city 
 
BROOK FARM. 139 
 
 and country ; have mingled with the most intelligent 
 and with the unlettered rustic ; have marked society 
 in a variety of phases, and find amid all that self 
 ishness has warped the judgment, chilled the affec 
 tions, and blunted all the fine feelings of the soul. 
 I am weary and worn with the heartless folly, the 
 wicked vanity, and shameless iniquity which the 
 civilized world everywhere presents. Long have I 
 sighed for something higher, nobler, holier than aught 
 found in this world ; and have sometimes longed to 
 lay my body down where the weary rest, that my 
 spirit might dwell in perfect harmony. But since 
 the beautiful science of amity has dawned upon my 
 mind, my heart has loved to cherish the bright antic 
 ipations of hope, and I see in the dim distance the 
 realization of all my wishes. I see a generation 
 coming on the arena of action, bearing on their brows 
 the impress of their noble origin, and cultivating in 
 their hearts the pure and exalted feelings that should 
 ever distinguish those who bear the image of their 
 Maker. Association is destined to do much for poor 
 suffering humanity: to elevate, refine, redeem the 
 race and restore the purity and love that made the 
 bowers of Eden so surpassingly beautiful. 
 
 You, sir, and your associates are pioneers in a 
 noble reform. May the blessing of God attend you. 
 I am anxious to be with you for various reasons. The 
 first is, I have two little daughters whom I wish to 
 bring up aniid healthful influences, with healthy and 
 untrammeled bodies, pure minds, and all their young 
 Affections and sympathies clustering around their 
 
140 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 hearts. I never wish their minds to be under the in 
 fluence of the god of this generation fashion ; nor 
 their hearts to become callous to the sufferings of 
 their fellows. I never wish them to regard labor as 
 degrading, nor poverty as a crime. Situated as I am 
 I cannot rear them in health and purity, and there 
 fore 1 am anxious to remove them from the baneful 
 influences that surround them. I look upon labor as 
 a blessing, and feel that every man and woman should 
 spend some portion of each day in healthful employ 
 ment. It is absolutely necessary to my health, and is 
 also a source of enjoyment even in isolation ; how 
 much would that pleasure be increased could I have 
 several kindred spirits around me with whom I could 
 interchange thoughts, and whose feelings and desires 
 flow in the same channel as my own. 
 
 Oh, sir, I must live, labor, and die in association. 
 Again my heart is pained with the woes of my fel 
 lows ; with the distressing poverty and excessive labor 
 which are bearing to the grave a portion of the human 
 family. Gladly would I bear my part in raising them 
 to a higher and happier condition ; and how can I bet 
 ter do this than by uniting myself with the noble re 
 formers of Brook Farm, where caste is thrown aside 
 and rich and poor constitute but one family. I have 
 not a large fortune, but sufficient to live comfortably 
 anywhere. A large part of it is now vested in houses 
 and lands in Georgia. Such is the low price of cot 
 ton that real estate cannot be sold at this time with 
 out a ruinous sacrifice. Most of my Georgia prop 
 erty rents for more than the interest of its cost at 
 
BROOK FARM. 141 
 
 eight per cent. I have also houses and lands in this 
 state, but cannot for the above-named reasons find a 
 purchaser. Therefore if I go to the Association I 
 shall be obliged to leave some of my possessions un 
 sold, and be content to receive the rent until I can 
 eifect a sale. I have no negroes, thank God. Now 
 if you are not full at Brook Farm, and do not object 
 to myself, wife, and two daughters, one four years, 
 the other six months old presenting ourselves as 
 candidates for admission, and $2,500 or $3,000 will 
 be sufficient for an initiation fee, I shall, as soon as 
 I can arrange my affairs, be with you. I will thank 
 you to write me, informing me with how much ready 
 cash, with an income of $500 or $600 per year, I 
 
 can be received. Mrs. and myself will wish to 
 
 engage daily in labor. We both labored in our 
 youth ; we wish to resume it again. 
 
 Dear Friends, if I may so call you. I read in the 
 " New York Tribune " a piece taken from the 
 " Dial," headed the West Roxbury Community. 
 Now what I want to know is, can I and my children 
 be admitted into your society, and be better off than 
 we are here ? I have enough of the plainest kind to 
 eat and wear here. I have no home but what we 
 hire from year to year. I have no property but mov 
 ables, and not a cent to spare when the year comes 
 .ound. I have three children : two boys and a girl ; 
 the oldest fourteen, the youngest nine ; now I want 
 to educate them how to do it where there is no 
 chance but ordinary (schools, to move into the vil- 
 
142 GEORGE RIPLE7. 
 
 lage, I could not bring the year round, and the dan 
 ger they would be exposed to without a father to 
 restrain their wanderings would be undertaking more 
 than I dare attempt. Now, if you should presume 
 to let me come, where can I live ? Can our indus 
 try and economy clothe and feed us for the year ? 
 Can I keep a cow ? How can I be supplied with fir6 
 in that dear place, how can I pay my school bills, 
 and how can I find all the necessary requisites for my 
 children to advance in learning ? If I should wish to 
 leave in two, three, or five years, could I and mine, 
 if I paid my way whilst there ? If you should let 
 me come, and I should think best to go, how shall 1 
 get there, what would be my best and cheapest route, 
 how should I proceed with what I have here sell 
 all off or bring a part ? I have three beds and bed 
 ding, one cow, and ordinary things enough to keep 
 house. My children are called tolerable scholars ; 
 my daughter is the youngest. The neighbors call 
 her an uninteresting child. I have no pretensions to 
 make ; my only object is to enjoy the good of the 
 society, and have my children educated and accom 
 plished. 
 
 Am I to send my boys off to work alone, or will 
 they have a kind friend to say, Come, boys ; and teach 
 them how in love and good will, and relieve me of 
 this heavy task of bringing up boys with nothing to 
 do it with ? If your religion has a name I should 
 like well enough to know it ; if not, and the sub 
 stance is love to God and good will to man, my mind 
 ta well enough satisfied. I have reflected upon thij 
 
BROOK FARM. 143 
 
 subject ever since I read the article alluded to, and 
 now I want you to write me every particular. Then, 
 if you and I think best in the spring, I will come to 
 you. We are none of us what can be called weakly. 
 I am forty-six years old, able to do as much every 
 day as to spin what is called a day s work. Not that 
 I expect you spin much there, only that is the amount 
 of my strength as it now holds out. I should wish 
 to seek intelligence, which, as you must know, I lack 
 greatly ; and I cannot endure the thought that my 
 children must lack as greatly, while multitudes are 
 going so far in advance, no better qualified by nature 
 than they. I want you to send me quite a number 
 of names of your leading characters ; if it should 
 seem strange to you that I make the demand I will 
 explain it to you when I get there. I want you to 
 answer every item of this letter, and as much more 
 as can have any bearing on my mind either way. 
 Whether you accept this letter kindly or not, I want 
 you to write me an answer without delay. Are there 
 meetings for us to attend? Do you have singing 
 schools ? I do thus far feel friendly to your society. 
 Direct my letter to New York 
 
 To the leading members of the Roxbury Commu 
 nity, near Boston. 
 
 DEAR SIR, It gives me the most sincere pleas- 
 ane to reply to the inquiries proposed in your favor 
 of the 31st instant. I welcome the extended and 
 increasing interest which is manifested in our appar 
 ently humble enterprise, as a proof that it is founded 
 
144 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 in nature and truth, and as a cheering omen of its 
 ultimate success. /Like yourself, we are seekers of 
 universal truth. We worship only reality. We are 
 striving to establish a mode of life which shall com 
 bine the enchantments of poetry with the facts of daily 
 experience. This we believe can be done by a rigid 
 adherence to justice, by fidelity to human rights, by 
 loving and honoring man as man, by rejecting all ar 
 bitrary, factitious distinctions. We are not in the 
 interest of any sect, party, or coterie ; we have faith 
 in the soul of man, in the universal soul of things. 
 Trusting to the might of benignant Providence which 
 is over all, we are here sowing in weakness a seed 
 which will be raised in power. But I need not dwell 
 on these general considerations, with which you are 
 doubtless familiar. 
 
 In regard to the connection of a family with us, our 
 arrangements are liberal and comprehensive. We 
 are not bound by fixed rules which apply to all cases. 
 One general principle we are obliged to adhere to 
 rigidly : not to receive any person who would increase 
 the expenses more than the revenue of the establish 
 ment. Within the limits of this principle we can 
 make any arrangement which shall suit particular 
 cases. 
 
 A family with resources sufficient for self-support, 
 independent of the exertion of its members, would 
 find a favorable situation with us for the education 
 of its children and for social enjoyment. An annual 
 payment of $1,000 would probably cover the ex 
 penses of board and instruction, supposing that na 
 
BROOK FARM. 145 
 
 services were rendered to diminish the expense. An 
 investment of $5,000 would more than meet the orig 
 inal outlay required for a family of eight persons ; 
 but in that case an additional appropriation would be 
 needed, either of productive labor or of cash to meet 
 the current expenditures. I forward you herewith a 
 copy of our Prospectus, from which you will perceive 
 that the whole expense of a pupil with us, including 
 board in vacations, is $250 per annum ; but in case 
 of one or more pupils remaining with us for a term 
 of years, and assisting in the labors of the establish 
 ment, a deduction of one or two dollars per week 
 would be made, according to the services rendered, 
 nntil such time as, their education being so far com 
 pleted, they might defray all their expenses by their 
 labor. In the case of your son fifteen years of age, it 
 would be necessary for him to reside with us for three 
 months, at least, on the usual terms ; and if, at the 
 end of that time, his services should be found useful, 
 he might continue by paying $150 or $200 per an 
 num, according to the value of his labors ; and if he 
 should prove to have a gift for active industry, in 
 process of time he might defray his whole expenses, 
 complete his education, and be fitted for practical life. 
 With the intelligent zeal which you manifest in our 
 enterprise, I need not say that we highly value your 
 sympathy, and should rejoice in any arrangement 
 which might bring us into closer relations. It is only 
 from the faith and love of those whose hearts are 
 filled with the hopes of a better future for humanity 
 that we look for the building up of our " city of God.* 
 10 
 
146 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 So far we have been prospered in our highest ex 
 pectations. We are more and more convinced of the 
 beauty and justice of our mode of life. We love to 
 breathe this pure, healthy atmosphere ; we feel that 
 we are living in the bosom of Nature, and all things 
 seem to expand under the freedom and truth which 
 we worship in our hearts. 
 
 I should regret to think that this was to be our last 
 communication with each other. May I not hope to 
 hear from you again ? And with the sincere wish 
 that your views of the philosophy of life may bring 
 you still nearer to us, I am, with great respect, 
 Sincerely your friend, 
 
 GEO. RIPLET. 
 
 This will serve to give an idea of Mr. Rip- 
 ley s personal faith in the enterprise he had un 
 dertaken. The letter which follows is of similar 
 purport. With him, as with his comrades, the 
 enthusiasm was genuine and noble, the fruit of 
 highest sentiment and serenest faith, never 
 gushing or windy, but calm, steady, luminous, 
 and all the more penetrating because reposing 
 on moral principles. Page after page of his 
 note-books is filled with close calculations re 
 specting the capacity of land for tillage : so 
 much corn to the acre, so much grain, so much 
 clover, so much grass, fodder, root, potato, veg 
 etable, all showing how practical was his en 
 thusiasm, 
 
BROOK FARM. 147 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I thank you foi sending me the 
 circular calling a convention at Skeneateles for the 
 promotion of the community movement. I have just 
 enjoyed a short visit from Mr. Collins, who explained 
 to me very fully the purposes of the enterprise, and 
 described the advantages of the situation which had 
 been selected as the scene of the initiatory experi 
 ment. I hardly need to say that the movers in this 
 noble effort have my warmest sympathy, and that if 
 circumstances permitted I would not deprive myself 
 of the privilege of being present at their delibera 
 tions. I am, however, just now so involved in cares 
 and labors that I could not be absent *or so long a 
 time without neglect of duty. 
 
 Although my present strong convictions are in 
 favor of cooperative association rather than of com 
 munity of property, I look with an indescribable in 
 terest on every attempt to redeem society from its 
 corruptions. The evils arising from trade and money, 
 it appears to me, grow out of the defects of our social 
 organization, not from an intrinsic vice in the things 
 themselves ; and the abolition of private property, I 
 fear, would so far destroy the independence of the 
 individual as to interfere with the great object of all 
 social reforms ; namely, the development of human- 
 ty, the substitution of a race of free, noble, holy men 
 and women instead of the dwarfish and mutilated 
 specimens which now cover the earth. The great 
 problem is to guarantee individualism against the 
 masses on the one hand, and the masses against the 
 individual on the other. 
 
148 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 In society as now organized the many are slaves to 
 a few favored individuals in a community. I should 
 dread the bondage of the individual to the power of 
 the masses ; while association, by identifying the in 
 terests of the many and the few, the less gifted and 
 the highly gifted, secures the sacred personality of 
 all, gives to each individual the largest liberty of the 
 children of God. Such are my present views, sub 
 ject to any modification which farther light may pro 
 duce. Still I consider the great question of the means 
 of human regeneration yet open ; indeed hardly 
 touched as yet, and Heaven forbid that I should not 
 at least give you my best wishes for the success of 
 your important enterprise. In our own little Asso 
 ciation we practically adopt many community ele 
 ments. We are eclectics and learners ; but day by 
 day increases our faith and joy in the principle of 
 combined industry, and of bearing each other s bur 
 dens instead of seeking every man his own. It will 
 give me great pleasure to hear from you whenever 
 jou may have anything to communicate interesting 
 to the general movement. I feel that all who are 
 seeking the emancipation of man are brothers, 
 though differing in the measures which they may 
 adopt for that purpose. And from our different 
 points of view it is not perhaps presumption to hope 
 that we may aid each other by faithfully reporting 
 the aspects of earth and sky as they pass before our 
 6 eld of vision. One danger, of which no doubt you 
 lire aware, proceeds from the growing interest in tha 
 lubject ; and that is, the crowd of converts who de 
 
BROOK FARM. 149 
 
 Eire to help themselves rather than to help the move 
 ment. It is as true now as it was of old, that he 
 who would follow this new Messiah must deny him 
 self, and take up his cross daily, or he cannot enter 
 the promised kingdom. The path of transition is 
 always covered with thorns, and marked with the 
 bleeding feet of the faithful. This truth must not 
 be covered up in describing the paradise for which 
 we hope. We must drink the water of Marah in the 
 desert, that others may feed on the grapes of Eshcol. 
 We must depend on the power of self-sacrifice in man, 
 not on appeals to his selfish nature, for the success of 
 our efforts. We should hardly be willing to accept 
 of men or money unless called for by earnest convic 
 tions that they are summoned by a divine voice. I 
 wish to hear less said to capitalists about a profitable 
 investment of their funds, as if the holy cause of hu 
 manity was to be speeded onward by the same force 
 which constructs railroads and ships of war. Rather 
 preach to the rich, " Sell all that you have and give 
 to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven." 
 
 To the ordinary members of the Association 
 the daily life was both stimulating and enter 
 taining. They had amusements in plenty. 
 There was an Amusement Group, whose busi 
 ness it was to enliven the leisure hours with 
 charades, tableaux, dances, picnics, theatricals, 
 headings, games, diversions in the woods or in 
 the house. Hawthorne describes a picnic party 
 at Brook Farm, in which the grass, vines, trees, 
 
150 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 houses, cattle, gypsies, fortune-tellers, negroes, 
 were combined picturesquely with the fanciful 
 dresses of the more elegant spectators. " The 
 household," he remarks, " being composed in 
 great measure of children and young people, is 
 generally a cheerful one enough even in gloomy 
 weather." " It would," he says, " be difficult; 
 to conceive beforehand how much can be added 
 to the enjoyment of a household by mere sun- 
 niness of temper and liveliness of disposition." 
 We may add that sunniness of temper became 
 habitual and permanent, the exasperating causes 
 of friction, so constant in ordinary existence, 
 being removed. J The innocent freedom of Brook 
 Farm was stimulating to good-humor, and con 
 ducive to happy conditions of mind.l A writer 
 in " The Atlantic Monthly " of October, 1878, 
 a lady of much refinement, a good observer 
 and a frank narrator, sums up her experi 
 ence in these words : " Naturally exclusive and 
 fastidious, a spell was woven around me which 
 entered into my very heart, and led me to nobler 
 and higher thoughts than the world ever gave 
 me." Margaret Fuller was at first annoyed by 
 the apparent rudeness of behavior, but was 
 afterwards affected by the simplicity and sin- 
 terity she saw everywhere about her. " The 
 first day or two here," she wrote, " is desolate. 
 You seem to belong to nobody. But very soon 
 
BROOK FARM. 151 
 
 you learn to take care of yourself, and the free 
 dom of the place is delightful." At one of her 
 conversations she was disturbed by the care 
 less ways of the listeners. " The people showed 
 a good deal of the sans culotte tendency in 
 their manner, throwing themselves on the floor, 
 yawning, and going out when they had heard 
 enough. Yet, as the majority differ from me 
 to begin with, that being the reason the sub 
 ject (education) was chosen, they showed, on 
 the whole, more respect and interest than I had 
 expected." A year later she finds " the tone 
 of society much sweeter. . . .f There is a per 
 vading spirit of mutual tolerance with great 
 sincerity. \ There is no longer a passion for 
 grotesque freaks of liberty, but a disposition 
 rather to study and enjoy the liberty of law." 
 Her tribute to the consistent dignity of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ripley accords with the uniform testimony 
 of all who had knowledge of the institution. 
 
 To understand the spirit of Brook Farm, as 
 it was illustrated in its details, one should read 
 the articles in "The Atlantic Monthly" for 
 1878, and in "Old and New" for February, 
 April, and September, 1871, and May, 1872. 
 Should Dr. J. T. Codman, of Boston, publish 
 his " Recollections," all who are interested in 
 the minute circumstances of the undertaking 
 will have their curiosity abundantly gratified. 
 
152 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 The literature of Brook Farm is scattered, but 
 it is not meagre, and it overflows with a spirit 
 of joy. The magazine papers referred to are 
 delightful contributions to the sum of mental 
 entertainment. After making full allowance 
 for the effect of distance in lending enchant 
 ment to the view, for the writer s desire to set 
 forth the romantic aspects of a chosen theme, 
 for the poetic sentiment which idealizes the 
 past, and, in general, for an amiable disposition 
 to recall only what was pleasant, there remains 
 enough to make the outsider feel that for a 
 brief period a truly golden age visited the earth. 
 Genius, taste, invention, feeling, put forth their 
 best endeavors ; tempers were firm and fine ; 
 excellent gifts were discovered and appreciated ; 
 every kind of talent was exercised ; every spe 
 cies of good nature was encouraged ; every con 
 tribution, from the greatest to the least, was 
 heartily welcomed. Spiritual and intellectual, 
 as well as aesthetic, powers were in fairest bloom. 
 They who would penetrate more deeply into 
 the philosophical idea of the institution may 
 consult Noyes s " History of American Social 
 isms," or Semler s " Geschichte der Socialismus 
 and Communismus in Nord America," but no 
 formal treatise will convey the genius which in 
 spired and sustained Brook Farm. The editor 
 of the New York "Sun," one of the earliest, 
 
BROOK FARM. 153 
 
 ablest, most constant, and most influential 
 friends of the enterprise, said, in a keenly dis 
 cerning and soberly eulogistic article on Mr. 
 Ripley, then just deceased :/" It is not too much 
 to say, that every person who was at Brook 
 Farm for any length of time has ever since 
 looked back upon it with a feeling of satisfac 
 tion. The healthy mixture of manual and in 
 tellectual labor, the kindly and unaffected social 
 relations, the absence of everything like assump 
 tion or servility, the amusements, the discus 
 sions, the friendships, the ideal and poetical at 
 mosphere which gave a charm to life, all these 
 combine to create a picture toward which the 
 mind turns back with pleasure, as to something 
 distant and beautiful, not elsewhere met with 
 amid the routine of this world." Hawthorne, 
 notwithstanding a certain amount of personal 
 disappointment, and a rather passionately ex 
 pressed opinion against its principle of combin 
 ing intellectual with manual labor, could speak, 
 in 1852, of " his old and affectionately remem 
 bered home at Brook Farm " as being " cer 
 tainly the most romantic episode in his life." 
 Tt is unnecessary to repeat here what has been 
 baid so often and so authoritatively, that the 
 u Blithedale Romance " simply borrowed from 
 Brook Farm some suggestions of character and 
 a few touches of local color, but was neither in- 
 
154 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 tended nor received as an account of the Asso 
 ciation. The artist did as painters do, used 
 the material in his possession, and produced hia 
 effects by such combinations as suited his pur 
 poses. His work reflects upon Brook Farm nei 
 ther credit nor discredit. In 1877 a pupil of 
 Brook Farm, living in Boston, made an effort 
 to bring together the old brotherhood for a few 
 hours of social enjoyment. They were widely 
 separated ; they had become old ; they were 
 worn by toil and care ; they were absorbed in 
 life s relations and occupied with life s duties. 
 But they replied in terms of gratitude for the 
 remembrance, of affection towards their former 
 comrades, and of confidence in the principles of 
 their ancient organization. The leader wrote : 
 " Brook Farm may well point to the children 
 who graced her social circles so long time ago, 
 and who have since ripened into strong men 
 and noble women, saying, with the modest pride 
 of the Roman matron, These are my jewels. " 
 Mr. Dana recalled the past affectionately, ac 
 knowledging it as a " great pleasure to look 
 back upon the days when we were together, 
 and to believe that the ends for which we then 
 labored are sure at last, in good time, to be 
 realized for mankind." Mr. Channing wrote 
 " The faith and longing for the perfect organi* 
 lation of society have only deepened with time. 
 
BROOK FARM. 155 
 
 Another said : " Were I not occupied exactly as 
 I am, I should indulge myself, at the cost of a 
 good deal of effort even, in the pleasure of a 
 meeting with fellow-laborers whose faith in the 
 truth of our social principles has never faltered, 
 I am sure, any more than my own." Another 
 wrote : " There is no part of my past life that I 
 recall more frequently than that spent at Brook 
 Farm." Another wished that his " children 
 could live under such influences, that, on the 
 whole, were so pure and refined." Yet another 
 " modest worker " recorded his faith that, " al 
 though the original objects of the Association 
 were never accomplished exactly as proposed," 
 he has always felt, in his own case, that he 
 " derived a lasting impulse and gain from the 
 connection." 
 
 The daily life at Brook Farm was, of course, 
 extremely simple, even homely. The meals 
 were eaten in the common dining-room, the veg 
 etarians, of whom there were several, occupying 
 a table by themselves. The food was plain. 
 There were no hired waiters. The benches 
 were of pine wood, without backs. There was 
 a general parlor, and a reading-room well sup 
 plied with journals and daily papers. Those 
 who had books readily lent them to such as 
 wished them, or contributed them to the com 
 munity. Mr. Ripley had his library at the 
 
156 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 " Eyrie," as the house was called. There were 
 no separate parlors. The only kitchen was in 
 the " Hive." As the members increased, addi 
 tional accommodation was provided by the erec 
 tion of new buildings, but there was at no time 
 too much room for the one hundred and fifty 
 inmates. The forms of courtesy were at all 
 times observed, something better than polite 
 ness prompting the associates to make them 
 selves pleasant to their companions. There 
 were naturally few rules, but such as existed 
 were cheerfully obeyed. The highest moral 
 refinement prevailed in all departments. In 
 the morning, every species of industrial activ 
 ity went on. In the afternoon, the laborers 
 changed their garments and became teachers, 
 often of abstruse branches of knowledge. The 
 evenings were devoted to such recreations as 
 suited the taste of the individual. The farm 
 was never thoroughly tilled, from the want of 
 sufficient hands. A good deal of hay was raised, 
 and milk was produced from a dozen cows. The 
 milk was sold to outside consumers, and the 
 vegetables, so far as they were not wanted in 
 the Association, were sent to the nearest mar 
 ket. Some worked all day in the field, some 
 only a few hours, some none at all, being oth 
 erwise employed, or by some reason disqual 
 ified. The most cultivated worked the hard 
 
BROOK FARM. 157 
 
 est. Labor-saving machines were introduced or 
 invented ; but, although all worked who could, 
 the labor to be done was always in excess of the 
 laborers. 
 
 ^The serious difficulties were financial. These 
 pressed heavily on the directors, for no indus 
 try, no patience, no devotion will carry on an 
 enterprise without money. None of the mem 
 bers were rich ; most of them were poor ; the 
 ablest were only moderately well-to-do. The 
 trades lacked a market, and therefore did not 
 thrive. The manufacture of Britannia ware, 
 lamps and so forth, had limited encouragement ; 
 the sash and blind maker had leisure in excess 
 of his orders ; the shoe business languished. 
 The farm yielded but moderate returns beyond 
 the actual needs of the community. None of 
 the lighter industries nursery, garden, green 
 house paid anything. The necessity of meet- 
 ing the dues of interest on capital advanced 
 about exhausted the proceeds of the school, 
 which was much the most lucrative department 
 of the institution. The public took no "solid " 
 interest in the concern. The experienced men 
 who were there brought little beside their skill. 
 The subjoined condensed report best tells this 
 part of the story. 
 
 " The direction of finance respectfully submit theii 
 Annual Report for the year ending October 31, 
 1844 : 
 
158 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 The income of the Association during the year 
 from all sources whatever, has been . . . $11,854.4* 
 
 And its expenditures for all purposes, includ 
 ing interest, losses by bad debts, and damage of 
 buildings and tools and furniture . . . 10,409.14 
 
 Leaving a balance of $1,445.37 
 
 From which, deducting the amount of doubtful 
 debts contracted this year 284.43 
 
 which is to be divided according to the Consti 
 tution, we have $1,160.84 
 
 By the last yearly report of this direction it ap 
 peared that the Association had been a loser up to 
 November 1, 1843, to the amount of $2,748.83. In 
 this amount were included sundry debts against asso 
 ciates amounting to $924.38, which should not have 
 been included. There were also some small discrep 
 ancies, which were afterwards discovered, so that on 
 settling the books the entire deficit appeared to be 
 $1,837. To this amount should be added the pro 
 portion of the damage done to the tools, furniture, and 
 general fixtures, and depreciation in the live stock, 
 by the use of the two years which the Association 
 had been in operation previous to that time. The 
 whole damage of this property by the use of these 
 years has been ascertained by inventory to be $365.54, 
 according to the estimates and statements prepared 
 by Messrs. Ryckman and Hastings, which are here 
 with submitted. Of this sum, $365.54, we have one 
 third, $121.85, to the account of the current year ; 
 and two thirds, $243.69, to the account of the twc 
 preceding years. To the same account should also 
 
BROOK FARM. 159 
 
 be added sundry debts which have since proved to 
 be bad, amounting to $678.08 ; and also an error in 
 
 favor of , amounting to $17.74, which has since 
 
 been discovered in his account, so that the total 
 deficit of the preceding years will appear to be as 
 follows : 
 
 Deficit on settling the books $1,837.00 
 
 Damage on furniture and fixtures . . . 243.69 
 
 Bad debts, including debts of associates, considered 
 
 doubtful 698.08 
 
 J. Morton 17.74 
 
 Total, $2,776.51 
 
 From this amount is to be deducted the value of 
 the farm produce, consisting of hay, roots, manures, 
 etc., on hand November 1, 1843, which was not 
 taken into the account of last year ; but which has 
 been ascertained to be $762.50, as well as the value 
 $49.13 of the family stores which were on hand at 
 the same time, but were also omitted from the ac 
 count. Deducting these two amounts, $762.50 and 
 $49.13 ($811.63), from the deficit as above stated, 
 we have : 
 
 Deficit ... $2,776.51 
 
 Farm produce and family stores . . . . 811.63 
 
 Real deficit for 1842 and 1843 .... $1,964.88 
 
 It was the opinion of a majority at least of this 
 board that this sum must be chargeable upon the 
 future industry of the Association, and that no divi- 
 iend could be declared until t had been made up. 
 Axjcordingly the quarterly statement for the quarter 
 
160 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 ending August 1, 1844, was based upon this opinion, 
 and a deficit of $526.78 declared to exist at that time. 
 It is but justice to say that this statement was made 
 up in the absence of one of the members of the di 
 rection, who, on seeing it, objected entirely to th 
 principle which it embodied. 
 
 The earlier losses of the establishment must be 
 regarded as the price of much valuable experience, 
 and as inevitable in starting such an institution 
 Almost every business fails to pay its expenses at 
 the commencement ; it always costs something to set 
 the wheels in operation ; this is not, however, to be 
 regarded as absolute loss. This is the view which is 
 to be taken of the condition of the Association at the 
 beginning of the present year : a certain sum had 
 been expended in establishing the Association, but it 
 is not therefore a loss, but only so much capital in 
 vested, and well and profitably invested. 
 
 To some persons it may perhaps seem remarkable 
 that a dividend should be declared, when the Associ 
 ation is so much in want of ready money as at pres 
 ent ; but a little reflection will show any one that it 
 is a perfectly legitimate proceeding. A very large 
 part of our industry has been engaged in the produc 
 tion of permanent property such as the shop, the 
 phalanstery, and the improvements upon the farm. 
 These are of even more value to the Association than 
 so much money, and a dividend may as justly be 
 based upon them as upon cash in the treasury. 
 
 In the schedule marked " D " is contained a 
 itatement of the debts of the Association contracted 
 
BROOK FARM. 161 
 
 liiice April 17, 1844, by which it appears that those 
 debts amount to $809.96. Of this amount the bills 
 of Messrs. Guild and Hartshorn for blacksmithing, 
 $99.39, are provided for and will presently be set 
 tled. 
 
 The schedule marked G contains a statement of 
 the time employed by individual associates in labor ; 
 and in the schedule marked H is contained a similar 
 account of the time employed in labor by the differ 
 ent probationers. 
 
 According to the Constitution, Art. III., Section 
 4, pupils over ten years of age and probationers are 
 entitled to no fixed dividend, but to such an amount as 
 the Association may decide. In the case of pupils the 
 direction have not thought that any dividend should 
 be awarded. To the probationers the direction would 
 recommend that two thirds of a full dividend should 
 be allowed, which is the proportion that they were 
 thought to be entitled to in fixing the amount of their 
 stipend. 
 
 In Schedule C is contained a statement of the 
 amount of interest and insurance which the Associa 
 tion is now paying, which appears to be $1,752.44. 
 
 As soon as the phalanstery shall be completed, it 
 will become necessary to establish different rates of 
 room rent. It is a matter of doubt whether such an 
 arrangement is not already desirable. In our pres 
 ent crowded condition indeed the general inconven 
 iences are distributed with tolerable equality ; but 
 Btill it is impossible to avoid some exceptions, and 11 
 might contribute to the harmony of the Association 
 11 
 
162 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 if a just graduation of rates for different apartments 
 should now be established. As far as possible no 
 member should be the recipient of peculiar favors ; 
 but where all are charged at an equal rate for un 
 equal accommodations this is unavoidable. For the 
 same reason a difference should be made between the 
 price of board at the Graham tables and those which 
 are furnished with a different kind of food. It is only 
 by this means that justice can be done and the con 
 stant recurrence of very unpleasant difficulties pre 
 vented. 
 
 This direction would also call the attention of the 
 Association to the necessity of instituting suitable 
 regulations respecting the absence of members. The 
 right to withdraw from the labors of the Association 
 is laid down in the Constitution, Art. III., Section 3, 
 together with the conditions of doing so ; but of ab 
 sence from the Association and its conditions nothing 
 is said, either in the Constitution or the By-Laws. It 
 is plain, however, that the absence of any members 
 from the place for personal purposes ought not to ab 
 solve them from the pecuniary responsibilities of the 
 relation. An equitable share of the current general 
 expenses should be borne by all members when ab 
 sent as well as when present. The services of each 
 member are, by the terms of the compact, supposed 
 to be of value to the whole phalanx over and above 
 the guaranties and dividends which he receives as a 
 compensation. When he withdraws from labor and 
 yet remains upon the place, this is made up by his 
 paying the full price for board and other articles fu? 
 
BROOK FARM. 163 
 
 Dished him ; but when he is absent from the place, it 
 is not, according to our present arrangements, made 
 up in any way whatever. 
 
 It is also the opinion of the direction that the time 
 has arrived when the natural differences in labor 
 should be recognized and different rates of compensa 
 tion for attractive, useful, and necessary labor estab 
 lished. In the earlier stages of the enterprise it was, 
 perhaps, not necessary that this should be done, but 
 at present it ought not to be deferred. Indeed, the 
 whole organization of industry should be brought to 
 a greater degree of scientific completeness. It is re 
 markable that in all young associations much labor 
 seems to be lost ; no man appears to accomplish his 
 usual amount of work. This evil can be remedied 
 only by perfecting our groups and series according to 
 scientific principles. The results of the year just 
 passed, riot brilliant certainly, but yet highly encour 
 aging, are mainly owing to the imperfect approach to 
 such principles which we have been able to introduce. 
 Even with the present arrangements we presume that 
 the results of next year s settlement might considera 
 bly exceed those of the present, but they must still 
 fall far short of what we wish for. Our object will 
 not be gained until we show practically that associ 
 ated industry gives a product far superior to that of 
 " civilized " industry. The establishment of the three 
 great divisions of labor of which we have spoken, and 
 uch other alterations in the general regulations re 
 specting labor as will bring them nearer to justice and 
 to scientific truth, will be important steps to this end. 
 
164 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 But we are convinced that it can be fully reached 
 only by perfectly arranged groups and series, and we 
 may be sure that the industrial capacities of the As 
 sociation will increase in compound proportion to the 
 completeness with which it attains to a regular serial 
 order in all departments, and to its general harmony. 
 In conclusion, the direction would respectfully urge 
 this subject upon the attention of the Association as 
 one of great and pressing importance. 
 
 CHARLES ANDERSON DANA, Chairman. 
 BROOK FARM, December 15, 1844. 
 
 Through all this embarrassment Mr. Ripley 
 kept his serenity undisturbed. More than that, 
 he was cheerful and even gay. No cloud was 
 seen on his face. He had pleasant words for 
 all. His voice was musical, his manner bright. 
 Thinking, working with band, head, heart : ad- 
 vising, directing, talking philosophy with Theo 
 dore Parker, talking farming with Minot Pratt, 
 writing diplomatic letters, milking cows, carry, 
 ing vegetables to market, cleaning the stable, 
 he was still the same sunny-tempered man, true 
 to his ideal, and true to himself. His devoted 
 wife toiled and served at his side unmurmur- 
 ingly. For ten hours at a time she has been 
 known to labor in the muslin room. With her 
 bands in the wash-tub, or her knees on the 
 scrubbing floor, she would still entertain her 
 fellow- workers by her smiling wit. Making 
 
BROOK FARM. 165 
 
 courteous apologies to her city friends for not 
 receiving or returning their visits, she never de 
 clined repulsive duty or uncongenial compan 
 ionship. A diligent and laborious housekeeper, 
 she was yet so attentive to her classes that in 
 two years she missed only two recitations ; and 
 with all this, she was so unassuming that her 
 name scarcely appears on the record of Brook 
 Farm. She was an adviser, too, one of the 
 Council, as intimately connected with the ad 
 ministration of the community as with its toils. 
 Much of the energy of Mr. and Mrs. Ripley 
 must have been due to sheer character. None 
 had so much to lose as they. Upon none did 
 the burden of care rest so heavily. They had 
 less share than the rest in the amusements and 
 recreations of the place. They were no longer 
 young. They had already a background of dis 
 appointment. In thoughtful hours their future 
 must have seemed precarious. But nothing of 
 this appeared. From morning till night they 
 upheld the courage and faith of those younger 
 and less anxious than themselves. This they 
 did, every day, for six or seven years, waiting 
 and hoping, refusing to be discouraged, conceal 
 ing from others, as far as possible hiding from 
 themselves, the suspicion that the prayer, " Thy 
 Kill be done on earth as it is in heaven," was 
 aot so near being answered as they had be 
 lieved. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BROOK FARM. FOTJRIERISM. 
 
 THUS far there had been no organization. In 
 fact, disorganization had been the rule of the in 
 stitution. The name was an after-thought. The 
 Constitution was not written till the experi 
 ment was several months old.) The principle 
 of freedom from all restraints but those of rea- 
 Bon and conscience made the managers jealous 
 even of apparent control.) The policy of non 
 intervention was carried as far as it could be 
 without incurring the risk of anarchy. This 
 was not unfitly called the " transcendental " pe 
 riod. It was charming, but unprofitable in a 
 worldly sense. As early as 1843 the wisdom of 
 making changes in the direction of scientific 
 arrangement was agitated ; in the first months 
 of 1844 the reformation was seriously begun. 
 On January 15, 1844, W. H. Channing, editor 
 of the " Present," a weekly paper begun in 
 September, 1843, published in New York, wrote 
 a glowing account of a convention which had 
 been held at Boston on the last week of Decem 
 ber, 1843, and the first week of January, 1844, 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 167 
 
 in behalf of Fourierism. In the closing num 
 ber of the "Dial," April, 1844, Miss E. P. 
 Peabody called attention to the same meeting. 
 The attendance was considerable, and the in 
 terest so great that the convention, which was 
 to have broken up on Wednesday, held over 
 through Thursday and Friday. At this con 
 vention Brook Farm was represented, and Mr. 
 Ripley made an earnest speech. The " Pha 
 lanx " an organ of Fourier s doctrine, also 
 published in New York since October, 1843 
 welcomed Brook Farm to the scientific frater 
 nity in an article printed February 5, 1844. In 
 connection with the proposed transformation, 
 the directors of the Brook Farm Association 
 published a second edition of their Constitu 
 tion, with the following " Introductory State 
 ment." We print the statement, which shows 
 how early the change to Fourierism was virtu 
 ally made. That so complete a revolution was 
 effected without long and eager discussion, some 
 misgiving, much criticism, and a good deal of 
 discontent, especially among the irresponsible 
 members, is not to be supposed. The idyllio 
 phase of Brook Farm was well-nigh ended. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT. 
 
 The Association at Brook Farm lias now been in 
 wcifltence upwards of two years. Originating hi the 
 
1C 8 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 thought and experience of a few individuals, it hai 
 hitherto worn for the most part the character of a 
 private experiment, and has avoided rather than 
 sought the notice of the puWic. It has, until the 
 present time, seemed fittest to those engaged in this 
 enterprise to publish no statements of their purposes 
 or methods, to make no promises or declarations, but 
 quietly and sincerely to realize, as far as might be 
 possible, the great ideas which gave the central im 
 pulse to their movement. It has been thought that 
 a steady endeavor to embody these ideas more and 
 more perfectly in life would give the best answer, 
 both to the hopes of the friendly and the cavils of the 
 skeptical, and furnish in its results the surest grounds 
 for any larger efforts. 
 
 \ Meanwhile, every step has strengthened the faith 
 with which we set out ; our belief in a divine order 
 of human society has in our own minds become an 
 absolute certainty ; and considering the present state 
 of humanity and of social science, we do not hesitate 
 to affirm that the world is much nearer the attainment 
 of such a condition than is generally supposed. 
 
 The deep interest in the doctrine of Association, 
 which now fills the minds of intelligent persons every 
 where, indicates plainly that the time has passed when 
 3ven initiative movements ought to be prosecuted in 
 silence, and makes it imperative on all who have 
 either a theoretical or practical knowledge of the sub 
 ject to give their share to the stock of public infor 
 mation. 
 
 Accordingly we have taken occasion, at serera. 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIER1SM. 169 
 
 public meetings recently held in Boston, to state some 
 of the results of our studies and experience, and we 
 desire here to say emphatically, that while, on the 
 one hand, we yield an unqualified assent to that doc 
 trine of universal unity which Fourier teaches, so, 
 on the other, our whole observation has shown us the 
 truth of the practical arrangements which he deduces 
 therefrom. The law of groups and series is, we are 
 Convinced, the law of human nature, and when men 
 are in true social relations, their industrial organiza 
 tion will necessarily assume those forms. 
 
 But beside the demand for information respecting 
 the principles of Association, there is a deeper call 
 for action in the matter. We wish, therefore, to 
 bring Brook Farm before the public, as a location 
 offering at least as great advantages for a thorough 
 experiment as can be found in the vicinity of Bos 
 ton. It is situated in West Roxbury, three miles 
 from the depot of the Dedham Branch Railroad, and 
 about eight miles from Boston, and combines a con 
 venient nearness to the city with a degree of retire 
 ment and freedom from unfavorable influences, unu 
 sual even in the country. The place is one of great 
 natural beauty, and, indeed, the whole landscape is 
 BO rich and various as to attract the notice even of 
 casual visitors. The farm now owned by the Asso 
 ciation contains two hundred and eight acres, of as 
 good quality as any land in the neighborhood of Bos 
 ton, and can be enlarged by the purchase of land ad 
 joining to any necessary extent. The property now 
 In the hands of the Association is worth nearly or 
 
170 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 quite thirty thousand dollars, of which about twenty- 
 two thousand dollars is invested either in the stock 
 of the company, or in permanent loans to it at six 
 per cent., which can remain as long as the Association 
 may wish. 
 
 The fact that so large an amount of capital is al 
 ready invested and at our service as the basis of more 
 extensive operations, furnishes a reason why Brook 
 Farm should be chosen as the scene of that practical 
 trial of Association which the public feeling calls for 
 in this immediate vicinity, instead of forming an en 
 tirely new organization for that purpose. 
 
 The completeness of our educational department 
 is also not to be overlooked. This has hitherto re 
 ceived our greatest care, and in forming it we have 
 been particularly successful. In any new Association 
 it must be many years before so many accomplished 
 and skillful teachers in the various branches of intel 
 lectual culture could be enlisted. Another strong 
 reason is to be found in the degree of order our or 
 ganization has already attained, by the help of which 
 a large. Association might be formed without the 
 losses and inconveniences which would otherwise nec 
 essarily occur. The experience of nearly three years 
 in all the misfortunes and mistakes incident to an 
 undertaking so new and so little understood, carried 
 on throughout by persons not entirely fitted for the 
 duties they have been compelled to perform, has, as 
 we think, prepared us to assist in the safe-conduct of 
 an extensive and complete Association. 
 
 Such an institution, as will be plain to all, cannot 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 171 
 
 by any sure means, be brought at once and full grown 
 into existence. It must, at least in the present state 
 of society, begin with a comparatively small number 
 of select and devoted persons, and increase by natu 
 ral and gradual aggregations. ^Vith a view to an 
 ultimate expansion into a perfect Phalanx, we desire 
 without any delay to organize the three primary de 
 partments of labor, namely, Agriculture, Domestic 
 Industry, and the Mechanic Arts./ 
 
 For this purpose, additional capital will be needed, 
 which it is most desirable should be invested by those 
 who propose to connect themselves personally with 
 the institution. These should be men and women ac 
 customed to labor, skillful, careful, in good health, 
 and, more than all, imbued with the idea of Associa 
 tion, and ready to consecrate themselves without re 
 serve to its realization. For it ought to be known 
 that the work we propose is a difficult one, and, ex 
 cept to the most entire faith and resolution, will offer 
 insurmountable obstacles and discouragements. Nei 
 ther will it be possible to find in Association, at the 
 outset, the great outward advantages it ultimately 
 promises. The first few years must be passed in con 
 stant and unwearied labor, lightened chiefly by the 
 consciousness of high aims and the inward content 
 that devotion to a universal object cannot fail to 
 bring. Still there are certain tangible compensations 
 tfhich Association guarantees immediately. These 
 are freedom fron. pecuniary anxiety and the evils of 
 Competitive industry, free and friendly society, and 
 ,he education of children. How great these are, 
 
172 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 those who have felt the terrible burdens which the 
 present civilized society imposes in these respects will 
 not need to be informed. 
 
 Those who may wish to further this cause by in 
 vestments of money only, will readily perceive that 
 their end is not likely to be lost in an Association 
 whose means are devoted mainly to productive indus* 
 try, and where nothing will ever be risked in uncer 
 tain speculations. 
 
 The following Constitution is the same as that un 
 der which we have hitherto acted, with such altera 
 tions as, on a careful revision, seemed needful. All 
 persons who are not familiar with the purposes of 
 Association will understand from this document that 
 we propose a radical arid universal reform, rather 
 than to redress any particular wrong, or to remove 
 the sufferings of any single class of human beings. 
 We do this in the light of universal principles, in 
 which all differences, whether of religion, or politics, 
 or philosophy, are reconciled, and the dearest and 
 most private hope of every man has the promise of 
 fulfillment. Herein, let it be understood, we would 
 emove nothing that is truly beautiful or venerable ; 
 we reverence the religious sentiment in all its forms, 
 the family, and whatever else has its foundation either 
 in human nature or the Divine Providence. The 
 work we are engaged in is not destruction, but true 
 tonservation ; it is not a mere revolution, but, as we 
 ure assured, a necessary step in the course of social 
 progress which no one can be blind enough to think 
 bas yet reached its limit. We believe that humanity 
 
BROOK FARM. - FO URIERISM. 178 
 
 trained by these long centuries of suffering and strug 
 gle, led onward by so many saints and heroes and 
 sages, is at length prepared to enter into that univer 
 sal order towards which it has perpetually moved. 
 Thus we recognize the worth of the whole Past, and 
 of every doctrine and institution it has bequeathed 
 us ; thus, also, we perceive that the Present has its 
 own high mission, and we shall only say what is be 
 ginning to be seen by all sincere thinkers, when we 
 declare that the imperative duty of this time and this 
 country, nay more, that its only salvation, and the 
 salvation of all civilized countries, lies in the re 
 organization of society, according to the unchanging 
 laws of human nature and of universal harmony. 
 
 We look, then, to the generous and hopeful of all 
 classes for sympathy, for encouragement, and for act 
 ual aid, not to ourselves only, but to all those who 
 are engaged in this great work. And, whatever may 
 be the result of any special efforts, we can never 
 doubt that the object we have in view will finally be 
 attained ; that human life shall yet be developed, not 
 in discord and misery, but in harmony and joy, and 
 the perfected earth shall at last bear on her bosom a 
 race of men worthy of the name. 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY, % 
 MINOT PRATT, y Directors 
 CHARLES A. DANA, ) 
 BROOK FARM, WEST EOXBUKY, 
 January 18, 1844. 
 
 The most prominent person associated with 
 the name and doctrines of Fourier in this coun- 
 
174 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 try, and the most powerful instrument in the 
 conversion of Brook Farm, was Mr. Albert Bris 
 bane. He had studied the system in France, 
 and made it his business to introduce it here. 
 His book, " The Social Destiny of Man," was 
 published in 1840; in 1843 the New York 
 " Tribune " opened its columns to him ; in the 
 autumn of the same year the monthly " Pha 
 lanx" was started. Mr. Brisbane was inter 
 ested in the Brook Farm experiment, and nat 
 urally desirous of giving it a more scientific 
 basis. He came there often, at first spending 
 a few days, but finally residing there several 
 months. He took no part in the manual labor 
 of the place, but devoted himself to the transla 
 tion of Fourier s Works and to the exposition 
 of his theory. He was a man of ability and 
 enthusiasm, an intellectual visionary. To his 
 fancy the heavens were opened to Fourier, and 
 the kingdom of God was ready to descend from 
 the clouds upon his disciples. In the mere name 
 Phalanx," he seemed to hear the trumpets of 
 the angels. It is probable that from him came 
 the earliest knowledge of Fourier s system, as 
 well as the impulse to convert to it the leaders 
 of the movement in West Roxbury. On the 4th 
 of April, 1844, a convention of Associationists 
 was held in Clinton Hall, New York. George 
 Ripley presided ; among the Vice-Presidente 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 175 
 
 were Horace Greeley, Albert Brisbane, and 
 Charles A. Dana ; the business committee com 
 prised, besides those already named, Parke God 
 win and William H. Channing. The spirit of 
 Fourier ruled the convention, though exception 
 was taken to such of his doctrines as, in the 
 opinion of the more sober-minded or scrupulous, 
 were inconsistent with the precepts of the Nevr 
 Testament, or the established customs of society 
 in New England. The speeches were eloquent, 
 the letters were glowing, the resolutions were 
 brave. Burning words fell as from inspired 
 lips. Channing, Dana, Greeley, Godwin each 
 in characteristic style and all with deep sincerity 
 ~ poured out their souls ; Mr. Solyman Brown 
 of the Leroysville Phalanx, recited an ode, en 
 titled " Visions of the Future." The convention 
 was closed with prayer and benediction. 
 
 The change to Fourierism introduced essen 
 tial modifications into the Constitution of Brook 
 Farm; a different class of people, more prac 
 tical and prosaic, came thither. It may be ques 
 tioned whether the revolution had the sympa 
 thy of Mrs. Ripley ; but Mr. Ripley threw him 
 self into it with all his ardor, doing his utmost 
 to make it successful. He wrote, talked, lect 
 ured, illustrating by word and example the new 
 gospel of labor and love, which to him was an* 
 tther edition of the Gospel of Christ. In March, 
 
17(5 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 1845, the " Brook Farm Phalanx " was incor 
 porated by the Legislature of Massachusetts. 
 The Constitution breathes a spirit of hope which 
 is pathetic at this distance of time, as we look 
 back on the failure of every similar undertak 
 ing, and see how helplessly astray was every 
 one of these attempts to reconstruct the social 
 order ; but they reveal a loftiness of sentiment 
 and a vigor of thought which would do honor, 
 under any circumstances, to human nature. The 
 " common sense " of the world has sufficiently 
 vindicated itself in their destruction ; let Faith 
 and Aspiration rejoice in their inauguiation 
 and purpose. The sternness of the waking does 
 not destroy the beauty of the dream. 
 
 The publication of the Constitution was fol 
 lowed in the summer by " The Harbinger," 
 which became the leading journal of Fourierism 
 in the country. The first number appeared on 
 June 14th. It was a handsome sheet of sixteen 
 pages, printed in quarto form. Its list of con 
 tributors was about the most remarkable e^ver 
 presented. Besides Ripley, D wight, Dana, and 
 Rykman, of Brook Farm, there were Brisbane, 
 Channing, Curtis, Cranch, Godwin, Greeley, 
 Lowell, Whittier, Story, Higginson, to say noth 
 ing of gentlemen less known in literature, jour 
 nalism, art, and business. The number of Mr. 
 Ripley s papers, longer and shorter, is over 
 
BROOK FARM FOURIERISM. 177 
 
 three hundred. He and Mr. Dana wrote most 
 of the editorial articles, in the interest of Asso 
 ciation Mr. Dana noticed the new books, was 
 the chief reviewer ; John S. D wight had charge 
 of the musical and poetical department, but did 
 not confine himself to it, his zeal prompting 
 him to publish papers advocating Association 
 in general and Fourier s doctrines in particular; 
 G. W. Curtis was a regular New York corre 
 spondent, reporting mainly the news in the 
 musical world ; W. H. Channing and Parke 
 Godwin translated or selected from Fourier s 
 writings ; Whittier sent a poem, " To my 
 Friend on the Death of his Sister ; " Lowell, 
 Cranch, Higginson, and Story appear as poets, 
 as do also Dwight and Dana. So many brill 
 iant men excited interest in the paper, and 
 would have insured its success, if brilliancy 
 alone would do it ; but even genius, though 
 united with enthusiasm, will not propel a ship 
 in a dead calm, or sustain a kite in a lifeless air. 
 Here is the prospectus : 
 
 "THE HARBINGER:" 
 
 Devoted to Social and Political Progress : Pub 
 lished simultaneously at New York and Boston, by 
 the Brook Farm Phalanx. 
 
 "All things, at the present day, stand provided 
 fcnd prepared, and awsut the light." 
 
x78 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 Under this title it is proposed to publish a weekly 
 newspaper for the examination and discussion of the 
 great questions in social science, politics, literature, 
 and the arts, which command the attention of all be 
 lievers in the progress and elevation of humanity. 
 
 In politics " The Harbinger " will be democratic 
 in its principles and tendencies ; cherishing the deep 
 est interest in the advancement and happiness of the 
 masses ; warring against all exclusive privilege in 
 legislation, political arrangements, and social cus 
 toms ; and striving, with the zeal of earnest convic 
 tion, to promote the triumph of the high democratic 
 faith which it is the chief mission of the nineteenth 
 century to realize in society. Our devotion to the 
 democratic principle will lead us to take the ground 
 of fearless and absolute independence in regard to all 
 political parties, whether professing attachment to 
 that principle or hostility to it. We know that fidel 
 ity to an idea can never be measured by adherence 
 to a name ; and hence we shall criticise all parties 
 i^ith equal severity, though we trust that the stern 
 ness of truth will always be blended with the tem 
 perance of impartial candor. With tolerance for all 
 opinions, we have no patience with hypocrisy and 
 pretense ; least of all with that specious fraud which 
 would make a glorious principle the apology for per 
 sonal ends. It will therefore be a leading object of 
 " The Harbinger" to strip the disguise from the pre 
 vailing parties, to show them in their true light, to 
 give them due honor, to tender them our gratefuj 
 reverence whenever we see them true to a nobl 
 
BROOK FARM.--FOURIERISM. 179 
 
 principle ; but at all times, and on every occasion, to 
 expose false professions, to hold up hollow-hearted- 
 ness and duplicity to just indignation, to warn the 
 people against the demagogue who would cajole them 
 by honeyed flatteries, no less than against the devotee 
 of Mammon who would make them his slaves. 
 
 " The Harbinger " will be devoted to the cause of 
 a radical, organic, social reform, essential to the high 
 est development of man s nature, to the production 
 of these elevated and beautiful forms of character of 
 which he is capable, and to the diffusion of happi 
 ness, excellence, and universal harmony upon the 
 earth. The principles of universal unity as taught 
 by Charles Fourier, in their application to society, 
 we believe are at the foundation of all genuine social 
 progress ; and it will ever be our aim to discuss and 
 defend these principles without any sectarian bigotry, 
 and in the catholic and comprehensive spirit of their 
 great discoverer. While we bow to no man as an 
 authoritative, infallible master, we revere the genius 
 of Fonrler too highly not to accept with joyful wel 
 come the light which he has shed on the most intri 
 cate problems df human destiny. 
 
 The social reform, of whose advent the signs are 
 everywhere visible, comprehends all others ; and in 
 laboring for its speedy accomplishment, we are con- 
 Bcious of devotion to the enslaved, to the promotion 
 pf genuine temperance, and to the elevation of the 
 toiling and down-trodden masses to the inborn rights 
 af humanity. 
 
 In literature " The Harbinger " will exercise a firm 
 
180 GEORGE R1PLET. 
 
 and impartial criticism without respect of persons or 
 parties. It will be made a vehicle for the freest 
 thought, though not of random speculations ; and 
 with a generous appreciation of the various forms 
 of truth and beauty, it will not fail to expose such 
 instances of false sentiment, perverted taste and erro 
 neous opinion, as may tend to vitiate the public mind 
 or degrade the individual character. Nor will the 
 literary department of " The Harbinger " be limited 
 to criticism alone. It will receive contributions from 
 various pens in different spheres of thought ; and, 
 free from dogmatic exclusiveness, will accept all that 
 in any way indicates the unity of man with Man, 
 with Nature, and with God. Consequently, all true 
 science, all poetry and art, all sincere literature, all 
 religion that is from the soul, all wise analyses of 
 mind and character, will come within its province. 
 
 We appeal for aid in our enterprise to the earnest 
 and hopeful spirits in all classes of society. We ap 
 peal to all who, suffering from a restless discontent 
 in the present order of things, with faith in man 
 and trust in God, are striving for the establishment 
 of universal justice, harmony, and love. We appeal 
 to the thoughtful, the aspiring, the generous every 
 where, who wish to see the reign of heavenly truth 
 triumphant by supplanting the infernal discords and 
 falsehoods on which modern society is built, for their 
 sympathy, friendship, and practical cooperation in 
 he undertaking which we announce to-day. 
 
 The energy wiili which Mr. Ripley threw 
 bimself into the work of establishing a Phalanx 
 
BROOK FARM.-FOURIERISM. 181 
 
 lit Brook Farm, on Fourier s system, may be in 
 ferred from the following letter of Mr. Brisbane, 
 which belongs to this period. The translations 
 spoken of were made from the writings of Fou 
 rier, and may be found in the second volume of 
 the " Sociological Series," published in New 
 York by C. P. Somerby, 1876. A lecture on 
 Fourier, mostly biographical, delivered at this 
 time, exists in manuscript ; it is remarkable 
 chiefly for its charming clearness of style, and 
 the firm conviction of its tone, but makes no at 
 tempt at exposition. 
 
 NEW YORK, December 9, 1845. 
 
 MY DEAR RIPLEY, Yours of the 3d, post-marked 
 the 5th, came to hand yesterday. I note all its con 
 tents in relation to your views upon the necessity of 
 developing Brook Farm. The reason why I have 
 spoken in some of my last letters of the best means 
 of bringing B. F. to a close, and making preparations 
 for a trial under more favorable circumstances, is 
 this : In the middle of November I received a letter 
 from Charles Dana, in which, in speaking of the va- 
 rioloid, he stated the difficulties you have to contend 
 with, and expressed fears for the future in such a 
 way, that I concluded you had made up your minds 
 to bring things to a close. I feared that Morton 
 might be foreclosing his mortgage, which would be 
 a most serious affair. Tbis was the cause of my ad- 
 rerting to a possible dissolution, and the necessity of 
 ooking ahead to meet in the best and most prope? 
 manner such a contingency. 
 
182 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 As to my opinion of what is to be done, it is easily 
 explained. 1st. We must raise a sufficient amount of 
 capital, and the amount must not be small. 2d. 
 When that is secured, we must prepare and work out 
 a plan of scientific organization, sufficiently complete 
 in its details to serve as a guide in organizing an As 
 sociation. For my own part, I feel no capability 
 whatever of directing an Association by discipline, bj 
 ideas of duty, moral suasion, and other similar means. 
 I want organization ; I want a mechanism suited and 
 adapted to human nature, so that human nature can 
 follow its laws and affections, and go rightly, and be 
 its own guide. I might do something in directing 
 such an organization, but would be useless in any 
 other way. As we all like to be active, I should like 
 exceedingly to take part in and help construct a sci 
 entific organization. How can we raise the capital 
 necessary to do something effectual ? I see but two 
 ways. The first, is for Channing and me and if he 
 will not do it then for you and me if you could 
 possibly engage in it, to lecture patiently and perse- 
 veringly in various parts of the country having the 
 translation of Fourier with us and continue at thit 
 work until we have enlisted and interested men 
 enough who will subscribe each a certain sum suffi 
 cient to form the fund we deem necessary. Patience 
 and perseverance would do this. One hundred men 
 who would subscribe $1,000 each would give us a 
 fine capital. Something effectual, I think, might be 
 done with such an amount ; less than that I fear 
 Would be patch-work. Second. If Channing 01 you 
 
BROOK FARM.FOURIERISM. 183 
 
 cannot engage in this enterprise, then I shall see 
 what I can do alone. I shall make first the trial of 
 the steel business ; things will now soon be deter 
 mined, probably in a few weeks ; there are chances 
 that it may be a great thing. If that turns out noth 
 ing, then I shall take Fourier s work and do some 
 thing of what I propose you, or Channing, and I 
 should do together. If nothing can be done in this 
 way, then I shall wait patiently until I can get my 
 father to embark with his fortune, or come into the 
 control of it I do not mean the capital, but the in 
 come, which will be large, ere long. Such are my 
 prospects. If the capital can be had, where shall we 
 organize, you will ask? That is a thing to be care 
 fully considered, and which we cannot decide at pres 
 ent. Placed under the circumstances you are, all 
 these speculations will appear foreign to the subject 
 that interests you, and useless. 
 
 You want capital, and immediately, for B. F. Now 
 it seems to me a problem as perplexing to get $15,000 
 for B. F., as it does to raise $100,000. Where can it 
 be had ? The New Yorkers, who have money, are 
 all interested and pledged to raise $10,000 for the N. 
 A. P., to pay off its mortgage. You might as well 
 undertake to raise dead men, as to obtain any consid 
 erable amount of capital from the people here. I 
 have tried it so often that I know the difficulties. 
 The fact is, we have a great work to accomplish 
 that of organizing an Association, and to do it we 
 must have the means adequate to the task, and to get 
 these means we must make the most persevering and 
 
184 VJCORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Herculean efforts. We must go at the thing in oar 
 uest, and labor until we have secured the means. 1 
 really see no other way or avenue to success ; if you 
 do, I should be glad to hear your explanations of it. 
 Fifteen thousand dollars might do a good deal at B 
 F., but would it do the thing effectually, that is, make 
 a trial that would impress the public ? and for 
 anything short of that, none of us, I suppose, would 
 labor. 
 
 We are surrounded by great difficulties. I see no 
 immediate chance of obtaining a capital sufficient for 
 a good experiment, and until we have the capital to 
 organize upon quite a complete scale, I should say 
 that it would be a very great misfortune to dissolve 
 B. F. No uncertain prospects should exercise any 
 influence; the means must be had in hand before we 
 make any decisive movement towards a removal, or 
 organizing in a more favorable location even if you 
 were perfectly willing to leave New England and the 
 neighborhood of Boston. As I said, I spoke of it 
 and should be urged to make at once the greatest 
 efforts to obtain capital, only under the fear that cir 
 cumstances might force a crisis upon you. 
 
 I have touched merely upon generalities to-day ; 
 after further correspondence, I will write you more in 
 detail. I will also come on and see you, if you deem 
 it advisable. The steel experiment keeps me here at 
 oresent. I think that next week I shall test it. I am 
 getting a furnace built expressly. I am deeply re- 
 ioiced to hear that you are getting on so well with tho 
 iranslation, and expect also to hear you say, that you 
 
BROOK FARM.FOURIERISM. 185 
 
 Bonder that we have done without it so long. It 
 must be the means of converting the minds of those 
 we most want, and which we have not yet been able 
 to reach. Push it ahead as far as possible. I have 
 perfect confidence that you can translate it better 
 than any one else in the world, and it has been left 
 for you to do. 
 
 I will forward what can be collected the first mo 
 ment that it can be obtained. I have not received a 
 second letter from Dwight ; if he has written, it has 
 not yet come to hand. Come on with him by all 
 means, if you can, or without him, if he cannot come, 
 or I cannot make my arrangements here for the en 
 terprise which will call him to New York. 
 
 Please present my kindest and most respectful re 
 gards to Mrs. Ripley, and believe me as ever, 
 Your true friend, 
 
 A. BRISBANE. 
 
 " The Harbinger " lived nearly four years, a 
 little more than two at Brook Farm, less than 
 two in New York. The last number was issued 
 on the 10th of February, 1849. It was a weekly 
 sheet, mainly written by Brook Farm men, 
 and to the last edited by Mr. Ripley, whose 
 articles, to say nothing in disparagement of the 
 vest, showed a warmth of heart, an earnestness 
 of soul, a clearness of mind and a force of state 
 ment which proved the man s utter sincerity in 
 the cause. 
 
 The published writings of this period illua- 
 
186 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 trate the fine enthusiasm which animated the 
 man, but they do not exhibit the affection that 
 he felt for the least of those who shared in any 
 degree his zeal for humanity. The letter which 
 is now printed, written in answer to a friendly 
 missive from a Brook Farm pupil, now a mar 
 ried woman in a western city, supplies this de 
 ficiency. It was found among the few papers 
 that he preserved of that happy time : 
 
 March 9, 1880. 
 
 MY DEAR , I can never think of you under 
 
 any other name than that which so deeply interested 
 me in your childhood, in spite of what you tell me of 
 your " dear, kind husband," and your four blooming 
 sons and daughters. It is not too much to say that 
 your charming letter gave me a thrill of pleasure, 
 recalling so vividly the by-gone days, when a child 
 in mind and appearance but a woman in thought and 
 feeling, your original and racy character awakened 
 in me an interest, "a real affection," as you justly 
 called it, which has never for one moment been 
 dimmed from that time to the present. I rejoice 
 more than I can tell you in the kindly and beautiful 
 remembrances which I am constantly receiving from 
 my old pupils and associates of the Brook Farm life, 
 which was then only a name for an enthusiastic en 
 deavor for a purer and better social state, but ivhich 
 has since become celebrated in romance and history 
 Among my own most precious recollections are those 
 of your beloved and honored family, of whom Flor 
 
BROOK FARM.FOURIERISM. 187 
 
 ence Is the only one with whom I have kept a per 
 sonal intercourse, and which has always been in the 
 highest degree pleasant and satisfactory. You do 
 not know that soon after your visit to Mrs. Manning, 
 now more than twenty years ago, my wife was at 
 tacked with a fatal disease, and died in the early part 
 of 1861. About five years after I was married to a 
 German lady, several years younger than myself, of 
 admirable character and great personal attractions, 
 who has given a charm to my life for the past fourteen 
 years. I have nearly reached the limit of four-score 
 years, but I find that age thus far makes little differ 
 ence in my attachment to early friends, in my enjoy 
 ment of life, or in my intellectual activity. I beg 
 you to present my cordial greetings to your husband, 
 who will possess the esteem which I cherish for 
 yourself, and my sincere love ( for your sake ) to the 
 dear children, who have honored me with their kind 
 request. I regret that I have no photograph, as I 
 have been unwilling to sit for one for many years as 
 they are all such fearful caricatures, and at present 
 especially I could only offer the "ashes of roses," 
 which would be an unworthy gift to one who remem 
 bers the flower in the fullness of its maturity. 
 
 It is unnecessary to speculate on the causes 
 of the failure at Brook Farm. There was 
 every reason why it should fail ; there was no 
 earthly, however much heavenly, reason there 
 may have been, why it should succeed. Like 
 similar enterprises elsewhere it was untimely, 
 
188 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 and whatever is untimely is already doomed to 
 perish. The principle is established that human 
 progress is gradual, by slow stages, evil by de 
 grees yielding to good, the spiritual succeeding 
 the natural by almost imperceptible processes 
 of amelioration ; so that all attempts miscarry 
 which aim at results, but disregard the steps 
 by which results are reached. Mankind are 
 repelled, as by an instinct, from undertakings 
 that are not founded on the visible sequence of 
 cause and effect. Capital avoids them. Prac 
 tical ability shuns them. Neither ambition nor 
 thrift will take part in them. The world, no 
 doubt, is selfish ; but so long as it is providen 
 tially so, so long as selfishness is one of the 
 stubborn conditions of advance in righteous 
 ness, to complain of it is idle, however strenu 
 ously one may resist it. 
 
 To those who think that Brook Farm failed 
 through lack of organization, it may be replied 
 that it failed quite as probably through having 
 too much. The introduction of Fourierism, 
 from which so much was expected, proved in 
 the end unfortunate. It frightened away ideal 
 ists whose presence had given to the spot its 
 chief attraction, and injured the pastoral bloom 
 which beautified it. The reputation of Brook 
 Farm for brilliancy, wit, harmless eccentricity, 
 was seriously compromised. The joyous spirit 
 
BROOK FARM.-FOURIERISM. 189 
 
 of youth was sobered. The outside community 
 henceforth regarded the enterprise as a me 
 chanical attempt to reform society rather than 
 as a poetic attempt to regenerate it. Fourier- 
 ism brought in a new set of theorists, quite as 
 unpractical, and much less sunny./ 
 
 The fire, which destroyed the only " phalan 
 stery," on the evening of March 3, 1846, was 
 a severe blow, more severe than the people 
 admitted. The edifice was commenced in the 
 summer of 1844, and was in progress until 
 November, 1845, when work was suspended for 
 the winter. It was resumed on the very day 
 of the fire, which was caused by a defect in the 
 construction of a chimney. The structure was 
 of wood, one hundred and seventy-five feet long, 
 three stories high, with spacious attics, divided 
 into pleasant and convenient rooms for single 
 persons. The second and third stories were 
 broken up into fourteen " apartments," inde 
 pendent of each other, each comprising a parlor 
 and three sleeping rooms, connected by piazzas 
 which ran the whole length of the building on 
 both stories. The basement contained a large 
 kitchen, a dining-hall capable of seating from 
 ^hree to four hundred persons, two public sa- 
 oons, together with a spacious hall and lecture- 
 loom. Although by no means a complete model 
 for a phalanstery, it was well adapted to imme- 
 
190 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 diate purposes, delightfully situated, and plead 
 ing to the eye. About $7,000 in all, including 
 the labor of the associates, had been expended 
 on the building ; it was estimated that $3,000 
 more would render it fit for its uses. There 
 was no insurance on it. The loss, which was 
 total, fell upon the holders of partnership stock 
 and the members of the Association. Notwith 
 standing the gallant spirit in which the calam 
 ity was met, the loss was serious. There was 
 a disposition on the part of the more sanguine 
 to make light of the disaster ; the earnest souls 
 fell back on their heroism and vowed to perse 
 vere in spite of all discouragements. The noble 
 president thanked the firemen, who had come 
 from neighboring towns, cheered the heart of 
 the desponding, and even drew consolation from 
 the thought that the building had not become 
 endeared to them by association ; but it was 
 in vain. The blow was staggering. Councils 
 of deliberation were held. Discussion was long 
 and heated. Proposals to dissolve were voted 
 down by men who in their hearts felt that 
 dissolution was inevitable. The boldest hoped 
 against hope. It may be true that the confla 
 gration was not the immediate cause of the en- 
 suing disorganization ; but that it was a proxi 
 mate cause of it can hardly be doubted. Cer 
 tain it is that from that moment the thoughts 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 191 
 
 D many turned away from Brook Farm. It 
 was harder than ever to obtain capital. There 
 was no demand for stock. It is more than likely 
 that Mr. Greeley s interest was diverted to 
 wards projects nearer New York, which looked 
 more promising, which at any rate were more 
 convenient, and which seemed to have before 
 them a future. On Brook Farm itself few at 
 tacks, either public or private, were made. Its 
 purpose was so sincere, its conduct so irre 
 proachable, its devotion to ends purely humane 
 so evident, that malice could find no grounds 
 for assailing it. The evil eyes that were turned 
 on it at last were perhaps sharpened by polit 
 ical animosity towards Mr. Greeley, whose un 
 popularity it was compelled to share. The lash 
 of partisan spite, it was found, could be made 
 to reach him if aimed over the shoulders of a 
 scheme which lent itself so readily to ridicule. 
 
 It is not worth while to do more than men 
 tion certain disadvantages of Brook Farm which 
 might in any case have impeded its success, but 
 which, under the circumstances, cannot be held 
 in any considerable measure accountable for its 
 failure. The soil was not, on the whole, favor 
 able to profitable tillage ; it needed manuring, 
 which was costly, because hard to get. There 
 was no water-power available. Railroad com 
 munication with the city was infrequent ; so 
 
192 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 that the heavy work of transportation had to be 
 done by wagon. Local industries in the neigh 
 borhood were inadequate to stimulate a demand 
 for various labor. Such obstacles might have 
 been overcome by capital or by trained skill, 
 but both of these would have been needed, and 
 neither of them was supplied. The consequence 
 was a result that was rather aesthetic than mer 
 cenary, a harvest that could be " gathered in a 
 song." The idealists lingered last, loath to 
 leave a spot endeared by so many associations, 
 hallowed by so many hopes. One of the last 
 to go, one of the saddest of heart, one of the 
 most self-sacrificing through it all, was John S. 
 D wight. It may be truly said that Brook Farm 
 died in music. 
 
 To Mr. Ripley the disappointment must have 
 been bitter. How bitter is evident from the 
 fact that he never referred to Brook Farm ex 
 cept in intimate conversation with his old com 
 rades, or with one to whom he could unbosom 
 his soul. At times he spoke of it in terms of 
 banter such as one may use to conceal deep feel 
 ing ; at other times, though this was rare, he 
 dwelt with solemnity on the aims which sent 
 him thither and kept him there doing the work 
 ne did for so many years. His faith in the 
 principles involved remained with him through 
 his life. About a yeai before his death he ex 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 193 
 
 pressed an earnest conviction of the truth, of 
 the primary ideas laid down by Fourier, and a 
 belief that some of his predictions were coming 
 true. Later still he declared his persuasion 
 that the highest visions he had ever entertained 
 must be fulfilled in due time. His weak ex 
 periment had come to nothing, but the truth 
 it sought to serve survived. He cast no blamo 
 upon the constitution of the world, none upon 
 his fellow-men. His own mistake he might be 
 sorry for, but of the undertaking he could not 
 feel ashamed. Of one thing he could be cer 
 tain: of his own singleness of purpose, of his 
 own integrity of will. His studies in the phi 
 losophy of history had been profound ; he had 
 read much and thought much, though he had 
 written little. As a man of letters his activity 
 had been hardly perceptible, but as a man of 
 mind it was of permanent value, and his subse 
 quent service as a man of letters was greatly 
 indebted to the experience acquired at Brook 
 Farm. 
 
 The crushing difficulties were, as will have 
 been comprehended long ere this, financial; 
 these pressed more and more heavily, month 
 by month, and at length could not be breasted. 
 The catastrophe came from this quarter, and in 
 such manner as the accompanying document* 
 
 explain. 
 
 II 
 
194 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 BROOK FARM, March 4, 1847. 
 
 Minutes of a meeting held this day pursuant to a 
 call in writing, through the post-office to each of the 
 stockholders and creditors of the Brook Farm Pha 
 lanx. The following persons being present, namely, 
 G. Ripley, J. M. Palisse, Jno. Hoxie, Francis G. 
 Shaw, Geo. R. Russell, S. Butterfield, N. Colton, P. 
 N. Kleins trup. G. Ripley in the chair. J. M. Palisse 
 was chosen Secretary. 
 
 After a verbal statement from G. Ripley respecting 
 the present condition of the Phalanx, it was voted 
 unanimously, that Geo. Ripley be authorized to let 
 the Farm for one year from March 1st, for $350 ; 
 and the Keith lot for $100 or more, with such condi 
 tions and reservations as he may deem best for the 
 interest of the stockholders. 
 
 Adjourned. 
 
 J. M. PALISSE, Secretary. 
 
 BROOK FARM, August 18, 1847. 
 
 Minutes of a meeting of the stockholders and 
 creditors of the Brook Farm Phalanx, held pursuant 
 to due notice given to all parties by George Ripley. 
 Present: Geo. Ripley, Theodore Parker, Samuel 
 Teal, P. N. Kleinstrup, A. Kay, J. M. Palisse, 
 Amelia Russell, Mary Ann Ripley. 
 
 J. M. Palisse was appointed Secretary of the 
 meeting. Theodore Parker read a letter from G. 
 R. Russell, authorizing the former to represent him 
 and vote at this meeting. It was then voted unani 
 mously : that the President of the Phalanx be, and 
 
BROOK FARM. FOURIERISM. 195 
 
 is hereby authorized, to transfer to a Board of Three 
 Trustees the whole property of the Corporation for 
 the purpose and with power of disposing of it to the 
 best advantage of all concerned. 
 
 Voted unanimously, that Messrs. T. Parker, G. R. 
 Russell, and Samuel P. Teal compose that Board of 
 Trustees. 
 
 Voted unanimously, that said Board of Trustees has 
 power to add Mr. Francis Jackson or some suitable 
 person to its number, or employ him as its agent in 
 the management of the business confided to its care. 
 
 Adjourned. 
 
 J. M. PALISSE, Secretary. 
 
 The devoted wife, who had toiled unflinch 
 ingly by her husband s side, lending the wings 
 of her ardent feeling to the steady momentum 
 of his resolute will, was betraying signs of phys 
 ical and mental exhaustion. In 1846, the treas 
 ured books were sold at auction, carrying with 
 them a purpose never again to collect a library, 
 since never again could books mean to him 
 what those had meant. On the transference of 
 " The Harbinger " to New York in 1847, the 
 home was removed from West Roxbury to the 
 village of Flatbush, on Long Island. There Mrs. 
 Uipiey earned money by teaching, while he pur 
 sued his editorial labors in a bare, upper room 
 of the old Tribune building. Discomfort in ev- 
 sry form was his portion. His chief recreation 
 
196 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 was a frequent visit to Coney Island, then lesa 
 gay and less respectable than it is now, and a 
 plunge in the lonely surf. His daily companion 
 was toil. His consolation was the fidelity of a 
 few friends and the loyal affection of his wife. 
 His support was the never-failing determina 
 tion to do his duty and the uplifting strength 
 of an aspiration which was never clouded for 
 more than a moment. A friend who knew him 
 well during this time speaks with feeling of the 
 cheerful courage with which he bore his for 
 tune, and the sweetness with which he met the 
 onset of calamity. Without jar or fret, jocund 
 in circumstances that would have broken ordi 
 nary men, he moved through the laborious 
 weeks, in his home a daily sunshine, in his 
 office a perpetual serenity which concealed a 
 secret sadness so effectually that only the most 
 intimate could suspect its existence. In later 
 life he told with humor to the writer of these 
 lines how, after an attack of illness which took 
 him away from his office for some weeks, he 
 returned to find the room deserted. " The Har 
 binger " had ended a promising but precarious 
 existence, and he was without place or employ 
 ment in the world. 
 
 The following verses, which belong to this 
 period, the only lines, so far as is known, 
 that he ever wrote, tell of his frame of mind. 
 
BROOK FARM.FOURIERISM. 197 
 
 They are copied from "The Christian Exam 
 iner " for May, 1847: 
 
 "THE ANGELS OF THE PAST." 
 
 My buried days! in bitter tears 
 
 I sit beside your tomb, 
 And ghostly forms of vanished years 
 
 Flit through my spirit s gloom. 
 
 In throngs around my soul they press, 
 
 They fill my dreamy sight 
 With visions of past loveliness 
 
 And shapes of lost delight. 
 
 Like angels of the Lord they move 
 
 Each on his mystic way, 
 These blessed messengers of love, 
 
 These heralds of the day. 
 
 And as they pass, the conscious air 
 
 Is stirred to music round, 
 And a murmur of harmonious prayer 
 
 Is breathed along the ground. 
 
 sorrow dies from out my heart 
 In exhalations sweet, 
 
 And the bands of life, which she did party 
 In blessed union meet. 
 
 The past and future o er my head 
 Their sacred grasp entwine, 
 
198 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 And the eyes of all the holy dead 
 Around, before me, shine. 
 
 And I rise to life and duty, 
 From nights of fear and death 
 
 With a deeper sense of beauty 
 And fuller strength of faith. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 LABOR. 
 
 ON the breaking up of Brook Farm, and the 
 decease of " The Harbinger," Mr. Ripley was 
 thrown altogether on his literary resources. In 
 every other direction his outlook was dark. He 
 had made two ventures, neither of which had 
 met his anticipations. He had reached the pe 
 riod of life when the thoughts turn backward. 
 He was poorer than poor, for he was in debt. 
 His noble wife had lost her faith in the ideas 
 that had sustained them both in much hardship, 
 and from the point of another creed, the Ro 
 man Catholic, regarded the associative experi 
 ment as unfortunate. What remained to him 
 was himself, his mind, his training, his power 
 with the pen, his determination to achieve in 
 other fields what he had failed as yet to accom 
 plish. 
 
 His first energies were directed to the task 
 of working himself clear of the pecuniary re- 
 iponsibility for Brook Farm. How great this 
 was cannot now be accurately determined. For 
 a man of ample means it would have been tri- 
 
200 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 fling, but for him it was heavy. There is evi 
 dence that for more than ten years this bur 
 den was upon him. The last receipt was for 
 groceries, paid for in part by money, in part by 
 a copy of the " Cyclopaedia," in 1862, Decem 
 ber 22. The number of claimants was thirty- 
 three. Of these, seven withdrew. After the 
 claims had been sifted and all compromises 
 made, the sums due amounted to a little more 
 than one thousand dollars. 
 
 Mr. Ripley s connection with " The Tribune " 
 began immediately on the cessation of "The 
 Harbinger," but was not at first lucrative, for 
 the paper was still young, having been estab 
 lished in 1841, and a literary department was 
 not as yet organized. Subsequently the man 
 made the place, but for several years the jour 
 nal, afterwards so distinguished as a tribunal of 
 letters, took a modest position. There was at 
 this time no such thing as systematic criticism 
 of literary work in a daily paper. The man 
 of letters wrote books. Of literary magazines 
 there were not many. " Harper s New Monthly 
 Magazine " was ushered into being in 1850 ; the 
 first number of " Putnam s Monthly " was is- 
 Bued in January, 1853. The leading writers 
 were either men of means, or had earned a com 
 petency by the sale of more ambitious works, 
 romances, histories, poems, sketches of travel, 
 
LABOR. 201 
 
 or were contented to live in retirement with 
 out money. Literature, the current literature of 
 the day, the literature which fed the multitude, 
 offered but a precarious subsistence, and no 
 hope of fame. In fact, the multitude had no 
 literature deserving the name. There was little 
 general knowledge of books, opinions, or char 
 acters. Intelligence was confined to concerns 
 of a material order ; the world of thought was 
 not yet open to the many. To earn a liveli 
 hood by his pen; and not merely to earn a 
 livelihood, but to pay debts ; and not merely to 
 do this, but to create a fame, to erect a stand 
 ard, and establish a permanent demand for the 
 best thought and the best expression, to make 
 knowledge a public necessity, as it had been a 
 private luxury, was the task which George Rip- 
 ley accomplished. Not that he contemplated 
 such an achievement when he began ; the drift 
 of the time was setting in a literary direction, 
 and gave him opportunities that he could not 
 have anticipated ; still he did more than any 
 man to stimulate that tendency, and to him is 
 largely due the substitution of an exact, critical 
 method, in place of the sentimental mood which 
 was earlier in vogue. He wrote from observa 
 tion, reading, knowledge, not from feeling or 
 fancy. From the first he did this. His train 
 ing at school and college ; his years of experi- 
 
202 GEORGE RIPLEf. 
 
 ence in an exacting profession ; his exercise in 
 reviews and controversies ; his familiarity with 
 the best productions of American, English, Ger 
 man, and French genius ; the severe mental and 
 moral discipline of Brook Farm, all conspired 
 with a remarkable firmness and moderation of 
 temperament, to repress any impulse towards 
 affectation or undue exhilaration of judgment, 
 while his natural buoyancy of spirits, his in 
 born kindness of heart, his knowledge of intel 
 lectual difficulties, and his sympathy with even 
 modest aspirations, saved him from moroseness, 
 and rendered it impossible for him to ply with 
 severity the scourge of criticism. 
 
 His earliest experience in journalism was of 
 the hardest. In the spring of 1849 he moved 
 to New York from Flatbush. At this time he 
 spent a few hours daily in the office of " The 
 Tribune " as " literary assistant," a " caterer 
 of intelligence in all languages but the vernac 
 ular." He had no leisure for such work as he 
 wished to do to review Morell s " Philoso 
 phy of Religion," for example ; or Hickock s 
 " Psychology" for his friend Parker s "Massa 
 chusetts Quarterly ; " but u everything is so 
 overlaid by filigree, spangles, bits of mica, and 
 so forth in the form of short book notices, cor- 
 respondence, and other machinery, by which 
 brain is turned into bread," that he makes ex 
 
LABOR. 203 
 
 cuses for not obliging his dearest friend. Thus 
 he writes on the 9th of July, 1849 : 
 
 MY DEAR THEODORE, My article on Dr. Bush- 
 nell has not got written, and of course not sent. 
 Since I heard from you last I have made a new ar 
 rangement with " The Tribune," and now have a reg 
 ular " bureau " in that office as assistant editor. This 
 so binds me to the flying wings of the daily press, 
 that I can make no engagements of a more responsi 
 ble character, and of course must forego the satisfac 
 tion of being one of your regular contributors. I 
 still hope, however, that I may wake up some fine 
 day and write you an article on some subject purely 
 literary, as I am more and more convinced that theol 
 ogy is beyond my depth. I will make no more prom 
 ises, and cause no more disappointment. 
 
 My present duties are quite to my taste, and give 
 me a moderate livelihood. Ever yours, faithfully, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 What his idea was of a moderate livelihood 
 may be surmised from the following statement, 
 copied word for word from the pay-roll of the 
 paper by one of the officials : 
 
 On the week ending May 5, 1849, Mr. Ripley was 
 paid $5.00 for services on the paper. This is the 
 first time that he appears. 
 
 The following week, ending May 12, his name does 
 uot appear. 
 
 On May 19, the week following, he was paid 
 
 $:.oo. 
 
204 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 On May 26, the week following, his name does not 
 appear. 
 
 On June 2 he was paid $5.00. 
 
 His name does not appear again until June 23, a 
 gap of two weeks, when he was paid $5.00. 
 
 On June 30, 1849, he was paid $8.00. 
 
 His name does not appear again until July 14, 
 1849, when he was paid $10.00, and from that date 
 until September 1, 1849, he was paid weekly $10.00. 
 
 On September 1, 1849, he was paid $15.00. 
 Thereafter, until April 6, 1850, he received $10.00 
 per week. 
 
 On April 6, 1850, and until September 21, 1851, 
 he received $15.00 per week. 
 
 On September 21, 1851, his salary was placed on 
 the pay-roll at $25.00, and remained thus until Jan 
 uary 16, 1864, with the exception of the week ending 
 October 4, 1851, when he was paid only $15.00. 
 
 On January 16, 1864, he was paid $30.00, and his 
 salary continued $30.00 per week until January, 
 1866, when it was raised to $50.00, and it remained 
 at that sum until January 11, 1871, when it was 
 raised to the sum of $75.00, and from that time until 
 his death he was paid $75.00 per week for his ser 
 vices. 
 
 During his absence in Europe, in 1869, his salary 
 ceased, and he was paid for the letters which he 
 wrote. The sum so paid him was about $30.00 per 
 tveek. This was done by his own solicitation. He 
 did not wish to receive his regular salary when not 
 at work at the office : but desired to write when h 
 
LABOR. 205 
 
 had matter to write about. When he had no subject, 
 or when he did not feel like working, he would not 
 accept of pay. 
 
 In connection with the increase of Mr. Ripley s 
 salary in 1871, the following extract from the " Min 
 utes Book " is of interest : 
 
 " Mr. Greeley proposed the following : 
 
 " Resolved, That the salary of Mr. George Ripley 
 be increased from $50.00 to $75.00 per week. 
 
 "In explanation, he [Mr. Greeley] said that his 
 general opposition to raising the salaries of stock 
 holders was well-known. He thought his own salary 
 had been raised unwisely, and had so said at the time. 
 Raising one salary always incites a claim that half a 
 dozen others should be raised to equalize payment 
 for equal service. He had always opposed, and al 
 ways would oppose, demands for additional pay based 
 on the needs of the claimant. He did not know 
 whether Dr. Ripley had more or less children than 
 John Rodgers, and did not care. He moved this in 
 crease on two distinct and only grounds: I. Dr. Rip- 
 ley has long served The Tribune industriously 
 and faithfully, and has won a high reputation for its 
 Literary Department. II. He [Mr. Greeley] de 
 sired more work of Dr. Ripley than he had hitherto 
 done, and would undertake, if the resolution pre 
 vailed, to get the value of the increase out of the 
 Doctor in good honest service." 
 
 The resolution was unanimously adopted. 
 
 On December 28, 1849, a resolution was passed by 
 the stockholders, in meeting assembled, permitting 
 
206 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 Messrs. George Ripley, Samuel Sinclair, and Jamei 
 Cuthill " to purchase stock in the Tribune Newspaper 
 Association," and thereafter they met with the stock 
 holders. 
 
 That Mr. Ripley s contributions to the polit 
 ical and miscellaneous columns were no larger, 
 must be explained by the activity of his pen in 
 other directions. A little account book, which 
 has been preserved, contains the names of va 
 rious periodicals for which he wrote, and even 
 gives the titles of his contributions. They cover 
 the whole field of human interests from social 
 reform to ephemeral amusements ; from grave 
 discussions of politics and philosophy to the gos 
 sip of the day ; the newly-arrived singer ; the 
 latest sensation in the dramatic world. He 
 tried his hand at all styles, having an eye to the 
 exigency of the hour. Art, music, opera, con 
 certs, the latest incident in the world of affairs, 
 Kossuth, Jenny Lind, Father Mathew, Miss 
 Bremer, Fanny Davenport, the lecturers, Cha- 
 pin, Giles, Emerson, the reading of Mrs. Kem- 
 ble, the Astor Place riot, the Parkman murder, 
 foot-races, Charlotte Gush man, reform and eccle 
 siastical conventions, the amount of mail matter 
 between Europe and America, spiritual sittings, 
 A. J. Davis and his first big book, the beginning 
 of new literary enterprises, Wordsworth, All- 
 iton, the Astor Library, Agassiz, Henry James 
 
LABOR. 207 
 
 Poe, Brownson, Longfellow, Sumrier, Garrison, 
 Phillips, Margaret Fuller, Samuel Osgood, Bee- 
 cher, Macaulay, Bancroft, N. P. Willis, Mosei 
 Stuart, Holmes, Thackeray, Horatio Greenough, 
 Comte, Schelling, Nehemiah Adams, James 
 Walker, Daniel Webster, Andrews Norton, 
 Walker s trial for murder, the cholera, the last 
 news from California, the demise of " The True 
 Sun," capital punishment, Friends Yearly 
 Meeting, the execution of Washington Goode. 
 " Anything but apathy " is his motto. It must 
 be confessed that a finely educated taste like 
 his does not always show to advantage in such 
 promiscuous company. His attempts at suc 
 cess as a penny-a-liner were not examples of 
 brilliant achievement : the lion does not appear 
 well at a menagerie. But the training was ex 
 cellent, and familiarity with all sorts of litera 
 ture was valuable. In no other way could he 
 have acquired the discipline needed in his pro 
 fession. 
 
 The breadth of his experience is indicated by 
 the variety of the journals to which he contrib 
 uted : " The Chronotype," " The Globe," Ar 
 thur s "Home Gazette," " The Literary Messen 
 ger," " The Washingtonian," The Picayune," 
 4 The Pittsburgh Commercial," " The Colum 
 bian," "The Charleston Literary Gazette," 
 "The Manchester Examiner" (English); later 
 
208 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 came "The Independent," " Hearth and Home," 
 and other periodicals not recorded. For some 
 of these he wrote regularly, for others occasion 
 ally ; always accommodating his material to the 
 journal it was prepared for, descanting on books, 
 politics, travels, the gossip of the day, social 
 movements, as his readers may have desired. 
 In several instances the papers were scores in 
 number, and on every conceivable subject, from 
 problems of life to the rumors of the streets. 
 It is bewildering even to note the themes ; and 
 when it is remembered that all this work was 
 conscientiously done, was done under serious 
 difficulties, much of it in hours of fatigue, anxi 
 ety, and sorrow, the achievement is astonishing. 
 
 In the early period of this labor, the spiritual 
 earnestness of the man often broke out, as for 
 example in such language as this : 
 
 " The work of ages goes on ; man advances 
 nearer to the freedom which is his birthright ; 
 the temporary evils, that are incidental to all 
 transitions from an old order of things to a bet 
 ter, pass away, and are forgotten ; the self-sus 
 taining, self-recovering power of liberty, insures 
 the health of the social body ; and in spite of 
 the Jeremiads of such croaking prophets as M. 
 Guizot, the serene spirit of humanity unfolds 
 new strength and beauty in the elastic atmos 
 phere of liberty, until its presence is acknowl 
 edged universally as benign." 
 
LABOR. 209 
 
 " Gerrit Smitli is one of the increasing num 
 ber, who, with Moses, Jefferson, and Fourier, 
 believe that the monopoly of land is at war with 
 the principles of divine justice; that the usu 
 fruct of the earth belongs to the living genera 
 tions of the race, but its absolute proprietorship 
 to no one but the Creator. This principle is 
 capable of demonstration." 
 
 " The Associationists have held several meet 
 ings the past week, which have been character 
 ized by an excellent spirit, great union of feel 
 ing, and unquenchable devotion to their cause. 
 . . . There is good reason why. They know 
 that the claims they make of social organization 
 are demanded by eternal justice, and will one 
 day be acknowledged by human intelligence." 
 
 The literary spirit, temperate, thoughtful, 
 considerate, asserted itself quickly, nor was it 
 long in claiming as its own the whole field of 
 expression. Thus, in February, 1850, he chron 
 icles the beginnings of the Astor Library. His 
 reviews of books and his notices of men con 
 tain sketches of character such as none but a 
 master could have produced. Portrait sketches 
 of this time might be multiplied indefinitely, 
 5or the rich-minded and warm-hearted writer 
 poured out his impressions with fullness and 
 freedom whenever he reviewed characters or 
 Docks. His multitudinous productions abound 
 
 14 
 
210 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 in similar material. Tempting descriptions of 
 Bancroft, Bushnell, Carlyle, Motley, Miihlen- 
 berg, Mill, Ruskin, Strauss, Channing, Par 
 ker, Biichner, Coleridge, Swinburne, Greeley, 
 Sainte-Beuve, George Eliot, G. H. Lewes, hang 
 on the walls of his work-room, done with a few 
 broad touches by his careful hand. They are 
 of various dates, but the same conscientiousness 
 of treatment marks them all. Though not al 
 ways original, they are always faithfully studied 
 and honestly executed, without mannerism or 
 pretense, and always with knowledge derived 
 from independent study. Several of them im 
 plied a large culture in the best schools of lit 
 erary art ; a few had many years of experienced 
 thought behind them. To a friend who ex 
 pressed surprise at the facility with which he 
 threw off his article on Goethe, he replied : " It 
 is not wonderful, seeing that I have been fifty 
 years about it." He was an illustration of his 
 own literary principles. In a review of Trench s 
 " Plutarch " he said : " He who does not write 
 as well as he can on every occasion will soon 
 form the habit of not writing well at all." The 
 mental hospitality finds explanation in another 
 saying of his : " Exclusive devotion to any ob 
 ject, while it narrows the mental range and con 
 tracts, if it does not paralyze, the sympathies, 
 usually diminishes the causes of temptation." 
 
LABOR. 211 
 
 It must be remembered that all the earlier 
 work was done under severe pressure of care. 
 The writer had none of the luxuries that the 
 man of letters loves. He was poor ; he could 
 afford but one room in a boarding-house ; his 
 labor was all directed towards the earning of 
 daily bread. He could not pursue his favorite 
 studies, but must compel his mind to take an 
 interest in subjects for which he had no taste. 
 He toiled for bare subsistence; his recreation 
 took the form of toil. He was sustained by his 
 indomitable will, his buoyancy of animal spir 
 its, and the devotion of his wife, who preserved 
 for him, personally, notwithstanding her change 
 of faith, a constant affection. She always saw 
 him go away in the morning with regret, and 
 welcomed his return with joy. She knew that 
 he was toiling for her sake, and was resolved 
 that she would give him such recompense as 
 might be in her power. That he had hours of 
 anxiety and despondency may be easily be 
 lieved. Without such he would not have been 
 human. But his despondency never got the 
 better of his courage. His moods of depression 
 were largely caused by fatigue, which an excel 
 lent constitution enabled him soon to throw off. 
 He possessed an extraordinary capacity for 
 work, and a conscientiousness which was proof 
 against the temptations of indolence and the 
 
212 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 languors of exhaustion. Work of itself did not 
 fatigue him, partly for the reason, perhaps, that 
 being varied and literary, the pressure was not 
 severely felt on the nerves of sensibility. It 
 was easy to throw from the mind what made 
 no organic part of the mind. Then the even 
 monotony of his labor reduced to a level all but 
 the few very remarkable works which break up 
 at long intervals the plains of the intellectual 
 world. 
 
 In 1852, in connection with Bayard Taylor, 
 he compiled a " Handbook of Literature and 
 the Fine Arts," a volume of 650 pages, 12mo, 
 the second in a series of six, projected and pub 
 lished by G. P. Putnam, as a comprehensive 
 cyclopaedia for family use. The book, though 
 mainly a compilation, involved much reading 
 and labor. An elaborate article on "Litera 
 ture," probably from the senior editor s pen, 
 was the most distinguishing feature in it. 
 
 When " Putnam s Magazine " was started,, 
 in 1853, Mr. Ripley was one of its early con 
 tributors. The article on George Bancroft 
 (March, 1853) lays emphasis on the impor 
 tance of the transcendental school of philoso 
 phy, of which Mr. Bancroft was an ardent ad 
 lierent and an eloquent expositor, pays a warm 
 tribute to " plebeian " institutions, and extolg 
 Kant, The article on Horace Greeley (July 
 
LABOR. 
 
 1855) regards Mr. Greeley s success as an il 
 lustration of American institutions; calls him 
 a genuine representative of the New England 
 spirit ; does not fully approve either his polit 
 ical principles or his plans of social reform ; 
 gives a fine analysis of his character; casta 
 a side glance at Mrs. Hemans, as contrasted 
 with Byron and Shelley, and dwells on the 
 limitations and infirmities of self-made men. 
 The paper is brilliant, and not in the least con 
 troversial. An article on American literature 
 (February, 1856) follows Duycinck in the 
 main ; but contains a warm eulogium on Roger 
 Williams, as the apostle of soul-freedom. The 
 paper on Heine (November, 1856) severely 
 condemns Heine s character ; is rather analyt 
 ical and philosophical in tone ; but confines it 
 self pretty closely to the data given in Meiss- 
 ner s " Erinnerungen." In two articles on 
 George Sand (February and June, 1857) the 
 writer follows the course of her "Autobiogra 
 phy " without attempting an essay on her gen 
 ius. There is no bitterness in his comment; 
 no rebuke of her "immoralities," only a mild 
 censure of her eccentricities, and a plea for 
 charity in respect to her infringements of " the 
 wholesome regulations of society." The biog 
 raphy of Wm. H. Seward, prefixed to the col 
 lective edition of Mr. Se ward s works (1853), 
 
214 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 was from George Ripley s pen. This, we sus 
 pect, was done with enthusiasm, for the writer 
 was a philosophical democrat, a believer in the 
 people, at heart in sympathy with all move 
 ments aiming at the elevation of the masses. 
 In a review of Greeley s " Conflict " (" Atlan 
 tic Monthly " for July, 1864), he spoke of the 
 " Compromises of 1850 " as " a monstrous cor 
 ruption in legislation, which not even the great 
 name of Henry Clay could shield from subse 
 quent opprobrium." The following letter from 
 Charles Sumner proves that long before this waa 
 written George Ripley s name called up associa 
 tions of reform with literary cultivation : 
 
 BOSTON, July 5, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I do not see " The Tribune " ha 
 bitually, and was not aware till yesterday that there 
 had been any notice or discussion of anything of mine 
 in its columns. It is only this evening that I have 
 seen your most flattering notice. I do not know that 
 I have ever read any article, mentioning my name, 
 with more sincere satisfaction than I have just read 
 that written by you. Knowing your skill as a critic 
 and your knowledge of the subject [" The Law of 
 Progress"], I have especial pleasure in your com 
 mendation, while I cannot but attribute it in some 
 measure to a friendly bias, or to the free-masonry 
 which unites all who are struggling, through the evi, 
 report of men, for the better time. 
 
LABOR. 215 
 
 I have tried to procure a copy of " The Tribune " 
 containing your notice, but in vain. It was Friday, 
 June 8. I have thought it not impossible that it 
 might be convenient for you to send me a copy of the 
 " Weekly " containing the whole controversy, but I 
 am particularly desirous of preserving your article. 
 
 I send you to-day a recent address on " Peace," in 
 which I believe I have shown that great cause to be 
 as practicable as it is beneficent. I have endeavored 
 to disembarrass the question of some of the topics 
 which are sometimes unnecessarily associated with it. 
 
 Pardon my free epistle, into which I have been 
 tempted by the exceeding kindness which you have 
 shown to me. Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 CHARLES SUMNER. 
 
 Mr. Ripley s connection with " Harper s New 
 Monthly Magazine " began with its beginning 
 in 1850, and continued intimate and confiden 
 tial till his death. He was at first a writer of 
 literary notices for it, but soon took more prom 
 inent positions, became a regular contributor, 
 arid finally one of its trusted "readers" of 
 works offered to the house for publication or 
 reissue to the American market. The number 
 of the " Opinions " is very great, manuscripts 
 being sent him every week, many of them nov 
 els, but many of them works on theological or 
 philosophical themes, volumes of travel, histo 
 ries, pictures of foreign lands, sketches of char- 
 
216 GEORGE R1PLET. 
 
 acter, essays, narratives of adventure, solid ex 
 amples of criticism, as well as " airy nothings " 
 of fancy. To all he gave conscientious exam 
 ination, not allowing himself to indulge a prej 
 udice in favor of an author or against him, and 
 keeping in view the interests of literature along 
 with the expediences of trade. His judgment 
 was sober, his perception keen, his knowledge 
 adequate. On his recommendation, many a 
 good book was sent forth to merited success, 
 and at his suggestion many a poor one was ar 
 rested on its way to the printer. Of necessity, 
 the judgments were summary and the opinions 
 short; but the judgments were always well 
 weighed, and the opinions carefully expressed. 
 A singular combination of literary sagacity and 
 worldly wisdom characterized them nearly all. 
 An author s fame seldom conceals any demer 
 its of his work, nor does an author s obscurity 
 prevent him from bestowing on his production 
 the attention it deserves. In praising or blam 
 ing, he is not contented with wholesale reflec 
 tions, but limits his approval or his disap 
 proval to the qualities he wishes to commend or 
 to discourage, never failing to distinguish the 
 special excellence or deficiency of the book un 
 der consideration. Such definiteness is a sign 
 of power; when united with the serenity of 
 knowledge, it is a sign of remarkable power of 
 
LABOR. 217 
 
 intellect. The writer must confess that a pe 
 rusal of these " opinions " has impressed upon 
 him the extraordinary mental force of Mr. Rip- 
 ley, even more than the elaborate reviews which 
 were intended for the public eye, as faithful 
 work done in secret is always more impressive 
 than the most brilliant performance designed to 
 meet the gaze of men. These criticisms, which 
 might easily be expanded into essays, were care 
 lessly thrown to the publisher for his guidance 
 as regarded the availability of commodities for 
 the market, but in truth they are valuable as 
 contributions to literary history. Their close 
 association with the names of authors and the 
 titles of books forbids their publication ; ex 
 cept for that, a volume of them would be in 
 structive and medicinal ; nutritious to minds in 
 health, curative to minds diseased. The Eng 
 lish of them is, of itself, a study, so quiet yet 
 BO fair. Mr. Ripley made a conscience of his 
 use of English. He said once, in print, " It is 
 the duty of every educated man to set his face 
 against the innovations which disfigure the lan 
 guage ; to exercise the functions of a committee 
 of vigilance where no verbal tribunal forms a 
 court of final appeal ; and thus to aid in the 
 creation of a body of common law which shall 
 have the force of a statute." So conscientious 
 was he about this, that the most abrupt vei- 
 
218 GEORGE 
 
 diets, often but two or three lines in length, are 
 expressed in English, not formal or studied, but 
 idiomatic; dashing, yet correct. The "opin 
 ions " in question prove the possibility of giv 
 ing utterance to very strong emotions without 
 departing from the vernacular. u Idiot " and 
 " lunatic " are to be found in the most conser 
 vative dictionaries. They who object to Mr. 
 Ripley s gentleness would, perhaps, be of an 
 other mind if they could see his written judg 
 ment on manuscripts sent to him for inspection. 
 The " New American Cyclopaedia " was be 
 gun in 1857. The project was conceived by 
 Rev. Dr. Hawks. Mr. Ripley s connection with 
 the work was coincident with its earliest execu 
 tion, and the character of the work itself owed 
 much to the patient labor and the unremitting 
 care which he bestowed on it. The publishers, 
 of course, granted every facility, provided the 
 gpace for a large corps of workers ; supplied the 
 books of reference ; paid contributors, sub-edi 
 tors, purveyors of literary material ; did all, in 
 fact, that publishers could do, in affording the 
 " ways and means," but the success of the 
 undertaking depended much on the manner in 
 which the task was performed, and that rested 
 with the editors, George Ripley and C. A. 
 Dana. They were both busy men; but they 
 were both men of remarkable power of labor 
 
LABOR. 219 
 
 and of singular resolution. Both gave their best 
 thought to the enterprise, and as much time as 
 it required. The staff of fellow-laborers was 
 not large at first, but competent writers had 
 charge of the articles ; a liberal spirit presided 
 over the undertaking, which, though of gigantic 
 dimensions and formidable responsibility, went 
 on smoothly from week to week. Mr. Ripley 
 himself wrote little or nothing ; but the labor 
 of selecting themes and authors, of preserving 
 due proportion of parts, and of correcting er 
 rors of statement or of style, was not light. 
 The articles were anonymous ; a severe taste 
 excluded individual peculiarities of manner and 
 opinion ; a tone purely literary animated every 
 page of the sixteen volumes. The subjects were 
 allotted to the best known authorities, without 
 regard to their ecclesiastical or party connec 
 tions, and were tried at the tribunal of histori 
 cal or literary truth before they were admitted. 
 A close and ceaseless watch was kept on every 
 line. Experts in learning passed sentence on 
 each contribution submitted. In fact, no means 
 were left untried to secure, as far as possible, 
 immunity from error. A supplementary vol 
 ume, published each year, supplied such addi 
 tions as the progress of events in the old world 
 or the new made necessary, until a complete 
 revision of the whole work was required ; but 
 
220 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 these volumes made no part of the Cyclopaedia 
 as being under the care of its editors. The 
 first two or three volumes of the main work 
 were edited solely by Messrs. Ripley and Dana ; 
 others, associate editors, came in later, and con 
 tinued, most of them, till the end. 
 
 The first edition was finished in 1862. A 
 complete revision was begun in 1867-68, and 
 completed in less than three years. Though 
 made under the same conditions and auspicea 
 as the first, the same editorial care, and, as far 
 as could be, the same critical supervision, it was 
 substantially a new work. Each article was sub 
 mitted to thorough re-handling ; the schedule 
 was reconstructed; much of the old material 
 was dropped ; the proportionate length of con 
 tributions was altered to suit the increased or 
 diminished importance of subjects ; and other 
 writers were called in to make good the places 
 of men whom death had removed, or whom cir 
 cumstances had rendered unavailable or need 
 less. The new book was a monument of edito 
 rial capacity. To it Mr. Ripley gave every 
 hour he could spare from other duties; having 
 it on his mind when it was not on his hands; 
 considering, planning, making notes in his mem 
 orandum-book ; anxious lest any piece of valu 
 able information should be omitted, or anj 
 defective workmanship be admitted; looking 
 
LABOR. 221 
 
 after the small details of literary execution, and 
 feeling his way in advance of the contributors 
 that he might not be taken by surprise. Every 
 day found him at his post for several hours, 
 cheerful, buoyant, unresting, and unfatigued, 
 never off his guard, but never petulant. After a 
 pleasant greeting to his fellow-workers he went 
 steadily to work himself, and silence, broken 
 by suppressed murmurs only as questions were 
 asked and answered in an under-tone, reigned 
 throughout the apartment. 
 
 Around the editor in chief were ranged his 
 staff. There was Robert Carter, a man of rare 
 and extensive knowledge, for many years con 
 nected with the newspaper press, an editor 
 once and author himself, for a long time corre 
 spondent of " The Tribune " at Washington, and 
 a trusted manager of " Appleton s Journal ; " 
 Michael Heilprin, the omniscient, a Hebrew, 
 of Polish extraction, formerly private secretary 
 of Kossuth, a man of boundless erudition, 
 master of all languages, Eastern and West 
 ern, a nice critic of details, especially in his 
 tory, biography, philology, and geography, since 
 known as the writer of a remarkable work on 
 the history and literature of Israel ; Alfred 
 jriiernsey, for many years an important servant 
 of the Harpers, conductor of their magazine, 
 chief historian of their well-known " War of 
 
222 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 the Rebellion ; " Francis Teall, whose famil 
 iarity with the mysteries of a printing-office 
 made him especially valuable as an inspector 
 and corrector of proofs. Among the revisers 
 were John D. Charnplin, Jr., the well-known 
 specialist, historian, and critic ; Julius Bing, the 
 industrious literary purveyor ; J. R. G. Hassard, 
 the accomplished writer on nearly all subjects 
 R. A. Proctor, the astronomer: in all more 
 than thirty men of more or less literary distinc 
 tion. With the world s literature beneath them 
 suggesting the patient toil of past centuries, and 
 the roar of traffic in the street outside to remind 
 them of the age to which they belonged, these 
 toilers pursued their unintermitted task of con 
 densing the thought of the generation into form 
 for easy reference. The world was ten years 
 older than it was when the " New American Cy 
 clopaedia " began to take the place of the admi 
 rable but long obsolete " Encyclopaedia Ameri 
 cana." History had made great strides; the 
 globe had yielded up many a secret to modern 
 investigation ; philology had unlocked treasures 
 of literature ; criticism had reduced ancient 
 prejudices to fictions ; charity had pulled down 
 some of the most stubborn barriers of faith ; a 
 respect for truth had to some degree taken the 
 place of pride of opinion ; it had become in 
 tome measure practicable to seek knowledge 
 
LABOR. 223 
 
 where aforetime nothing but ignorance, super 
 stition, and bigotry was looked for, and the mak 
 ers of the great Cyclopaedia had free permission 
 to obey the summons. 
 
 An abbreviated edition of the work, in four 
 volumes, was made immediately on the comple 
 tion of the revision. This was finished two 
 years before the death of the senior editor. 
 
 By agreement with the publishers the two 
 editors received between them twelve and a half 
 cents on every volume sold, or one dollar each 
 on every set. For extra work on the revision 
 Mr. Ripley was paid two hundred and forty 
 dollars a month. This began in 1876, and was 
 continued till the condensed edition in four vol 
 umes was finished. The number of volumes 
 sold of both the large editions, at this date, is 
 one million four hundred fifty nine thousand 
 five hundred and fifty ; an immense sale, due 
 in part, no doubt, to the timeliness of the proj 
 ect, in part also to the reputation of the pub 
 lishers and the well-established fame of the edi 
 tors in charge. 
 
 In 1862, about the time the first edition of the 
 Cyclopaedia was completed, Mr. Ripley formed 
 a plan for two volumes of papers " selected from 
 the contributions of the writer to the periodical 
 press during a long term of years," and even 
 wrote a preface explaining the contents. Tho 
 aollection was to be called, - 
 
224 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 BOOKS AND MEN. 
 
 A SERIES OP 
 
 CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 BY GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 The volumes were never published ; the ma 
 terials for them were probably never selected. 
 The author was easily diverted from any proj 
 ect of that kind. A native modesty forbade 
 his attaching importance to the necessarily fu 
 gitive productions of his pen. In an age of book- 
 making he was no book-maker ; and besides, his 
 time was so fully occupied that small leisure 
 remained for the suitable compilation and edit 
 ing of a series like that contemplated. Had 
 his engagements permitted a careful treatment 
 of the themes discussed, he might have been 
 nerved to undertake a work of permanent value, 
 for which he was well qualified. But there was 
 little to stir ambition in the plan suggested, 
 and he never found opportunity to alter it. 
 With remarkable capacity for authorship, and 
 more than the common inducements to it in 
 the form of pecuniary advantage, his standard 
 of excellence was high. Literature was his mis 
 tress, an exacting one, whom, in his opin 
 ion, he could better serve by the anonymous 
 daily effort of journalism into which he might 
 put conscience, knowledge, cultivation, experi 
 ence, taste, than by any more formal adventure 
 
LABOR. 225 
 
 of authorship. His individual claim to recog 
 nition he prized less than the influence which 
 he might exert through the impersonal quality 
 of his mind. This he spent without stint. His 
 friends will acknowledge the dignity of his 
 course, however much they may wish that they 
 possessed some permanent memorial of his ac 
 tivity, or that the world might know its full 
 debt to his faithfulness. Whoso lives for hu 
 manity must be content to lose himself. No 
 less than this shall be said here for the man who 
 furnished material for many books, but pub 
 lished none. 
 
 u 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SORROW. 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY has now become a man of 
 letters, pure and simple, examining all subjects 
 in a spirit purely literary. Never a dogmatist, 
 never a partisan, never a controversialist, never 
 a theorist or champion of opinions ; always an 
 eclectic in the best sense of the term, always a 
 believer in partial but advancing truth, he was 
 now less than ever disposed to commit himself 
 to any school or system. His faith was in 
 thought, his interest was in knowledge, let the 
 thought bear what name it might, let the knowl 
 edge proceed from whatsoever quarter. In intel 
 lectual passion he was deficient. His heart was 
 warm ; his conscience was true ; his mind was 
 serene and impersonal. A loyal friend, a faith 
 ful citizen, his devotion to truth was dispassion 
 ate, for the reason that it was modest. Affec 
 tion clung to forms ; conscience revered visible 
 symbols ; but truth was bodiless and eternal. 
 That he dared not limit. That he could only 
 worship from afar. And so strong was his con 
 viction of the claims of intellectual liberty thai 
 
SORROW. 227 
 
 to him it would have been nothing short of trea 
 son to confine himself within a sect. A theist 
 he undoubtedly was, a clear, decided one ; but 
 his theism was wider than any denomination, 
 broader than any creed. Intolerance, in his 
 view, was folly. The boldest affirmation was 
 likely to be nearest to wisdom. His faith might 
 best be expressed in the lofty language of the 
 writer of the Apocryphal Book of Ecclesiasti- 
 cus : " In all ages, entering into holy souls, she 
 [Wisdom] maketh them to be sons of God and 
 prophets." Such souls were, in his judgment, 
 few ; but he revered them wherever found, and 
 he found them in all communions. In a review 
 of Mr. Mallock s volume, " Is Life Worth Liv 
 ing ? " he wrote, " The consciousness of a spirit 
 ual life has not passed away from a host of 
 minds of profoundest thought, who find nothing 
 in the disclosures of science to shake their faith 
 in the eternal verities of reason and religion." 
 Later (1879), reviewing Arnold s " Light of 
 Asia," he said, " As an exposition of the relig 
 ious system of Buddha we reckon this poem as 
 no more successful than the numerous similar 
 attempts in prose. We have no sufficient data 
 for the solution of the problem. But as a mag 
 nificent work of imagination and a sublime ap 
 peal in the interests of the loftiest human vir 
 tue, we tender it the sincerest welcome, and 
 
228 GEORGE RIPLE7. 
 
 grasp the author by the hand as a genuine 
 prophet of the soul." In a notice of Kiddle s 
 " Spiritual Communications," printed about the 
 same time, he writes : u The book affords a 
 fearful example of the danger of substituting 
 the suggestions of personal fancy for the univer 
 sal principles of morality, and the practical rules 
 for the conduct of the understanding, which have 
 been accepted in all civilized communities." 
 
 He was too well acquainted with schools of 
 philosophy to commit himself without reserve 
 to either, and too familiar with creeds to repeat 
 any with full conviction. Having personal 
 friendships with men and women of all persua 
 sions, he preserved his mental integrity without 
 restricting his social intercourse ; in fact, the 
 completeness with which he kept his private 
 faith enabled him to maintain his social inter 
 course; for it was quite well understood that he 
 was purely a man of letters, whose imperson 
 ality of opinion made bigotry impossible on his 
 part, and disarmed the spirit of proselytism in 
 others. He met nobody on the dogmatical 
 plane ; on the intellectual plane he cordially 
 met anybody. He was never heard to pray , 
 lie was never heard to say his catechism ; he 
 was never heard to make confession of sin. 
 Yet who dares to say he was wanting in humil 
 [ty ? The books he loved to read were books 
 
SORROW. 229 
 
 on physiology. Yet he was no materialist, but 
 an idealist to the end of his days. No church 
 could claim him, but no church could disclaim 
 him ; and in hours of intimacy, when the veil 
 was removed from his spirit, his discourse took 
 a tone of solemnity which could belong only to 
 one who stood near the dividing line between 
 the temporal and the eternal, and was keenly 
 sensitive to the lightest breath of moral or spir 
 itual skepticism. To Theodore Parker, in 
 1852, he wrote : " I regard Schleiermacher as 
 the greatest thinker who ever undertook to 
 fathom the philosophy of religion. If he had 
 only placed his Infinite in the human soul he 
 would have come upon the right track, shad 
 owed forth by the &U/AWJ/ of Socrates, the To 
 
 ei oi/ of Plato, the l O eos ecrrt nreu/xa of Christ, 
 
 and whatever else acknowledges the God with 
 in us, or theism against atheism. In this faith 
 we have a grand comprehensive reconciliation." 
 The atheistical theory, however set forth, had 
 no attraction for him. "I have read but little 
 of Feuerbach. He seems crabbed and dog 
 matic in his atheism, and can have little influ 
 ence, I presume, except on the confirmed sys 
 tem-lover." 
 
 The following extracts from printed judg 
 ments may fitly be cited here as indicating the 
 cast of his thought on religious themes : 
 
230 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 s Man in the Past, Present, and Future."] 
 
 Among the physiologists of the extreme material 
 istic school, Dr. Biichner has gained a certain degree 
 of celebrity by the freedom of his speculations and 
 the audacity of his theories, rather than by any pre 
 tensions to accuracy of learning or soundness of judg 
 ment. The present work, like the productions by 
 which he is already known to the public, bears the 
 marks of crude and superficial reflection ; its method is 
 loose and desultory, its reasonings are plausible rather 
 than convincing, and its statements appear to aim at 
 popular effect rather than at precision and exactness 
 of information or sobriety of inference. As a writer, 
 Dr. Biichner has no mastery of ease or elegance of 
 expression ; his sentences are framed after the most 
 confused models of German construction, and the 
 lack of flow and neatness in his style makes the pe 
 rusal of his disquisitions more of a task than a pleas 
 ure. The interest of this volume consists in being 
 one of the latest, and, in some respects, one of the 
 most complete, accounts of the results of modern re 
 search with regard to the physical history and devel 
 opment of the human race. 
 
 \Mallock on Modern Skepticism. ] 
 
 The present work, " Is Life worth Living," like 
 ihe previous productions of the author, indicates an 
 excess of imagination over clearness of insight and 
 loundness of judgment. His fancy takes alarm at 
 the portentous shapes which are dimly descried 
 
SORROW. 231 
 
 through the mist of a mirage, instead of his pa 
 tiently examining their proportions in the veracity 
 of sunlight. His description of modern science, in 
 many respects, must be regarded as a caricature, of 
 which the colors have been supplied by the intensity 
 of his fears rather than by the tranquil observation of 
 facts. It is certain that the men of science of the 
 present day are not tinctured with the spirit of un 
 belief to the extent which is represented by the au 
 thor. The successors of Faraday and Agassiz, who 
 share their faith while they inherit their science, are 
 by no means few in number or narrow in influence. 
 The consciousness of a spiritual life has not passed 
 away from a host of minds of profoundest thought, 
 who find nothing in the disclosures of science to 
 shake their faith in the eternal verities of reason 
 and religion. Nor, perhaps, is the present age more 
 deserving the name of an age of unbelief than preced 
 ing ages. The eighteenth century presented an exam 
 ple of denial and doubt, of profane scoffing and disso 
 lute living, to which no parallel can now be found ; but 
 it was succeeded by a more passionate love of truth, a 
 higher tone of ethics, and a deeper sense of religion. 
 If the reign of dogma has been weakened, the domin 
 ion of a spiritual faith has gained fresh power and 
 won wider triumphs. 
 
 Mr. Mallock s book, accordingly, affords a curious 
 xample of taking a part for the whole, of overlook 
 ing a wide circle of social and human interests, of 
 Ignoring large classes of profound and powerfui 
 thinkers, of taking for granted the death of religious 
 
GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 faith, as he witnessed the obsequies of certain tempo 
 rary forms. The dirge-like notes with which he ac 
 companies the procession will not be accepted as the 
 music of humanity, nor will the burial of the soul 
 be deemed the inevitable result of the progress of sci 
 ence. 
 
 [William E. Charming."] 
 
 . . . His integrity of purpose was equally con 
 spicuous in his convictions and in his doubts. Next 
 to his love of humanity, his most ardent passion was 
 the love of truth, if it was not his love of truth 
 which inspired his profound devotion to the interests 
 of humanity. He had no taste and little capacity for 
 controversy. He delighted in the comparison of ideas, 
 especially with men whose earnestness and good faith 
 inspired him with confidence in their intentions ; but 
 the atmosphere of strife and debate was not congen 
 ial with his feelings, and prevented the free exercise 
 of his highest faculties. There was almost a child 
 like simplicity in his mind, which, in spite of perhaps 
 an excessive self-consciousness, led him to listen 
 meekly to suggestions, even from the humblest quar 
 ters, and to maintain the attitude of an inquirer rather 
 than a teacher. He had no tincture of a dogmatic 
 spirit. He was suspicious of broad generalizations, 
 tracing their origin to imagination and eloquence 
 jnore often than to accurate research, and hence was 
 always disinclined to the adoption of a system. He 
 rejoiced in every glimpse of truth which was opened 
 to iiie sight, but never presumed that he had ex 
 
SORROW. 233 
 
 hausted the circle of thought. The tone of his mind 
 was that of profound reverence. To him few things 
 were small, trivial, or unimportant. There was a 
 solemn air in his manner, a tremulous urgency in his 
 accents, when he spol^e of the " deep things of God," 
 of the mysterious greatness of the soul, of *the divine 
 endowments and destiny of man, which is sometimes 
 faintly, but never fully, reflected from his written 
 page. Still his style is marked by a gracious fervor, 
 that is scarcely surpassed by its chaste beauty. It is 
 not the glow of a heated furnace, but the warmth of 
 a vernal day, revealing the presence of celestial fires. 
 Dr. Channing s mind attained its greatest freedom 
 and power in his pulpit discourses. Neither in his 
 colloquial intercourse nor in his familiar correspond 
 ence was he so free from formality, so natural and 
 spontaneous, so entirely himself, as when address 
 ing the congregation of worshipers on a congenial 
 theme. His slight frame vibrated with emotion. His 
 low voice, instinct with pathos and tenderness, touched 
 the heart of every hearer. The scene was alive 
 with more than dramatic intensity. It was not ex 
 citement, it was not enthusiasm, but the solemn com 
 munion of soul with soul. 
 
 . . . The impression of the character of Dr. Chan- 
 uirig produced by this volume [E. P. P. s " Reminis 
 cences "] is in accordance with the estimate that has 
 long since been formed by intelligent readers of Amer 
 ican biography. He is set forth as a man of singularly 
 earnest convictions, arid even of an ardent tempera 
 ment, although usually concealed beneath his habit- 
 
234 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 ual reserve of manner and delicate reticence of 
 expression. 
 
 A more devout and unworldly spirit was never 
 manifested in the flesh. Like President Edwards, 
 whose writings were the subject of his early study 
 and admiration, he was enamored of " the beauty and 
 loveliness of divine things." But he was no ascetic, 
 no enthusiast, no dreamer. The serene wisdom of 
 his counsels was as remarkable as his austere devo 
 tion to duty. The workings of his mind were practi 
 cal rather than speculative. The great problem of 
 his life was the application of ideal principles to the 
 cultivation of personal character and the beauty and 
 perfection of the social order. With a more than 
 common share of self-consciousness, he was singularly 
 free from the influence of selfishness. His solicitude 
 for himself was never equal to his sympathy for 
 others. His own interests were always postponed to 
 the claims of truth, of righteousness, of humanity. 
 In the formation of his opinions, whether on a point 
 of speculative thought or of ethical action, he was 
 curiously deliberate, tentative, open to suggestion, 
 modest in decision, but firm in his grasp of principle. 
 His faith was without dogmatism, his religion with 
 out pretense, his conduct a transparent expression of 
 the "beauty of holiness." Rapt in the contemplation 
 of ideal truth, " his soul was like a star and dwelt 
 apart," but he never cherished the loneliness of 
 spirit which withdrew him from the sympathy of 
 bis kind, or the circle of pure and devoted friendship 
 
SORROW. 235 
 
 Theism. 
 
 The vital question of modern inquiry relates to 
 the first principle and origin of existence. Every 
 movement of thought is but the effort of the mind 
 to grasp the individual facts of nature in a compre 
 hensive unity, and to interpret the universe according 
 to the suggestions of reason. In all ages men have 
 attempted an ideal construction of natural phenom 
 ena. But they have never been able to rest in any 
 thing short of an absolute unity : a unity which is 
 the negation of all plurality and change ; a unity 
 which is unconditioned itself, and yet conditions ev 
 erything; an eternal constancy, which produces all 
 geneses and all variety. Thinkers have always ap 
 prehended, with more or less clearness, that the first 
 principle must be one or nothing. This is tacitly 
 conceded in all modern systems of thought. On this 
 ground Biichner the materialist, Spencer the dynam- 
 ist, Hegel the idealist, Cousin and Coleridge the spir 
 itualists, meet in common. The ultimate problem of 
 ill philosophy is to determine the relation of human 
 thought to this absolute principle. Among the solu 
 tions of the problem there are four distinct types, 
 which, in the opinion of the author, exhaust the dis 
 cussion. First, it has been maintained that matter, 
 with its essential attribute of force, explains the ori 
 gin of the universe. Second, the absolute principle 
 has been found in force, considered as the cause of all 
 the manifold phenomena of the universe. Third, 
 thought has been assumed as an eternal process of ev 
 olution, forming the supreme principle of all reality. 
 
236 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Fourth, the causative principle of existence and phe 
 nomena is an unconditioned will, a living and per* 
 sonal Being, determining all the conditions of the 
 universe with reference to a final purpose. The first 
 and second of these systems are essentially the creeds 
 of atheism ; the third is that of pantheism ; the fourth, 
 that of theism. 
 
 In the summer of 1848 his wife dropped her 
 teaching at Flatbush. Late in the autumn of 
 that year they came to New York. About that 
 time, either immediately before or immediately 
 after their removal, she professed her faith in 
 Romanism. Tired and disappointed, her illu 
 sions dispelled, her enthusiasm exhausted, 
 
 Weary of herself, and sick of asking 
 What she was and what she ought to be, 
 
 she sunk, like a spent child, into her nurse s 
 arms. " I have found my mother," was her 
 cry. The conversion must have been a grief 
 to her husband ; but if it was he did not be 
 tray it. This change of faith made no divis 
 ion between them. Whatever lack of mental 
 and spiritual correspondence it may have occa 
 sioned, it caused no break of private sympathy, 
 no withdrawal of affectionate respect. They 
 honored and loved each other as before. He 
 appreciated her devotion, aided her charities, 
 took an interest in her occupations, rejoiced in 
 her happiness, humored what to him seemed her 
 fancies. Their social delights they shared to. 
 
SORROW. 237 
 
 gether. Agreeing not to talk on questions Oi 
 religious opinion, they were quite free to com 
 municate on other subjects, and never allowed 
 any root of bitterness to spring up and trouble 
 them. They were seen together in public, and 
 in private were the delight of a select circle of 
 friends. Their lot was humble, but their hearts 
 were light. Her days were consecrated to of 
 fices of piety and love ; his were spent in the 
 drudgery of literature. Hers were passed among 
 the poor and friendless of the metropolis ; his 
 in his office, among his books. But in the even 
 ing they met and conversed cheerily, as if nei 
 ther was preoccupied. 
 
 In 1859, while stooping to pick up some 
 article which had fallen behind her dressing- 
 table, she struck against the sharp corner of 
 the marble top with such violence that the pain 
 obliged her to sit down till she could recover 
 herself. She said nothing about it, but soon 
 afterward noticed a hard lump in the right 
 breast, at the bruised spot ; still she said noth 
 ing. In June, 1860, Mr. Ripley being called 
 to Greenfield to the death-bed of his brother 
 Franklin, she consulted a physician, who was 
 shocked at the progress of disease. Still she 
 said nothing to her husband till two days after 
 his return, when, on his remarking that he had 
 dispatched the work which nad accumulated iu 
 
238 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 his absence, she threw out a hint of her condi 
 tion. It was too late. There was an operation , 
 she apparently recovered, was happy, gentle, 
 sweet, and so merry that it was a joy to see 
 her. In October they made a little journey to 
 Boston and Greenfield. But in November the 
 Buffering returned, and went on increasing in 
 severity until the end, in February, 1861. The 
 agony was intense, but the patience was saint 
 like ; the serenity of spirit was unbroken. No 
 murmur escaped the lips ; no expression of im 
 patience added to the grief of those about her ; 
 her thoughts were not for herself, but for those 
 whose pain she could do nothing to relieve. 
 Her faithful husband did for her all that was 
 in his power : sat by her, consoled her, cheered, 
 procured every alleviation his means would 
 allow, administered with his own hand the 
 soothing draught, was comforter, nurse, physi 
 cian, most tender and thoughtful of friends. 
 They had but one room. His writing-table was 
 in one corner, and there he sat at work, night 
 after night and day after day, his brain reeling, 
 his heart bleeding, his soul suspended on her 
 distress. So it went on for three months. A 
 kind friend in the house said at last : " Occupy 
 our rooms to-night ; my wife and I will go to 
 a hotel." That night was her last. Her hu&- 
 band told his sister he could have shouted fot 
 joy to think that the agony was over. 
 
SORROW. 239 
 
 The funeral was celebrated with all possible 
 3ircumstance, in fullest accordance with the rite 
 of the Roman Church, with music and priestly 
 vestments, as the authorities desired and as 
 affection prompted. The remains were taken 
 to Boston. Prayers were said in the old Pur 
 chase Street meeting-house, then a Catholic 
 church, he sitting where she sat in years gone 
 by, her body occupying the place of the ancient 
 communion-table. At his instance, ground was 
 consecrated for her resting-place in the old 
 cemetery at Cambridge. The pale, bloodless 
 man went back to a cold fireside. 
 
 With the death of his wife, George Ripley s 
 life seemed to be at an end. She represented 
 his whole past. She had been his intellectual 
 companion during the studious years of his 
 ministry ; she had shared his visions of the 
 new earth ; she had borne her part cheerfully 
 in the labors of Brook Farm ; she had aided 
 his efforts to build up a new home in another 
 city ; she had endeared herself to his soul by 
 her fortitude during a terrible sickness; she 
 was consecrated by the experience of death. 
 Her departure left him not only alone, but 
 lonely and depressed. He went from New 
 York to Brooklyn, where he lived in retire 
 ment for several months. 
 
 The following note to his niece well describes 
 his condition at this period : 
 
240 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 NEW YORK, June 26, 1861. 
 
 MY DEAR NIECE, The month of June has al 
 most gone, and I have not yet replied to your very 
 kind note, inviting me to spend a few days with you in 
 Greenfield before the close of the delightful month. 
 
 But I must not yield to the temptation which you 
 place in my way ; at present I have neither health 
 nor spirits which would make me a welcome guest, 
 even with the nearest relatives; and 1 am so tied 
 down with expediting the publication of our thirteenth 
 volume, to make up for the delay of the last two, 
 that I cannot leave my post without great incon 
 venience, although I must manage to get a few days 
 some time in July, which I have long promised to 
 my Boston friends. This must be the extent of my 
 visiting for the summer, but perhaps the pleasant 
 autumn days may entice me out of my solitude to 
 look again on your beautiful hills and meadows. 
 
 I beg you to give my kind remembrances to your 
 brother Franklin, and my affectionate regards to my 
 new niece, whose acquaintance I shall look forward 
 to making with pleasure. Tf they should be in New 
 York during the summer, or at any other time, I shall 
 depend on being informed of their arrival, and shall 
 rejoice to do anything in my power ( little, indeed, at 
 the best ) to make their visit agreeable. Marianne 
 pent last Sunday week with me at Brooklyn, and 
 on Monday I went with her to her green retreat at 
 Morrisania. It is a perfectly rural place, abounding 
 with shrubbery and flowers, and with a pleasant out 
 look on the forest. She seems quite contented io 
 
80RRO W. 241 
 
 her new home, and I have no doubt that the change 
 of air and scene will do her good. 
 
 With my love to your mother, and kind regards to 
 any of my relatives you may chance to see, 
 
 I remain ever your affectionate friend and uncle, 
 
 G. R. 
 
 From this seclusion he emerged in many re 
 spects an altered man ; affable and courteous as 
 ever, winning in manner, sweet in disposition, 
 but silent as to his former life. To the outside 
 observer, the casual acquaintance, the tempo 
 rary friend, the ordinary associate of the office 
 or the parlor, he seemed light-hearted, chatty, 
 companionable. They did not see or know 
 what an abyss of memory lay hidden beneath 
 the charming verdure of his conversation, and 
 perhaps thought that he had ceased to think 
 of what he did not disclose. A deep reserve 
 forbade the intrusion of profane eyes, and he 
 passed through the rest of his life a man little 
 comprehended and for the most part misunder 
 stood. Naturally, he, being now alone and of a 
 social disposition, went into society more than 
 he was used to, saw more people, sought more 
 the companionship and solace derived from in 
 tercourse with congenial friends, who never 
 found him dull or self-absorbed. Still his sol 
 itary hours were many. The fires were not 
 extinguished; the embers still were glowing; 
 
 16 
 
242 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 but a thick layer of ashes concealed them from 
 view, and he suffered no breath but his own to 
 blow it off, or waken the brands to flame. 
 
 Leaving Brooklyn, he returned to New York to 
 live quietly in his literary tasks, in the society 
 of a few secluded friends, and the musings of 
 his own heart. His week-days were passed in 
 the toil of an exacting calling ; on Sunday he 
 did not fail to be in his place at the church 
 whose ministrations carried him ^ack nearest to 
 the associations of his youth. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 THE NEW DAY. 
 
 THUS the uneventful years went on. His la 
 bors became more concentrated ; his engage 
 ments less distracting. The Cyclopaedia was 
 finished. Work had wrought upon him a sav 
 ing, healing, consoling influence. He took a 
 wider range of relaxation ; he went more freely 
 abroad. One evening, at the house of a friend, 
 he met the lady who opened to him the prospect 
 of a new career. She was German by birth, 
 and Parisian by education ; well born, well con 
 nected ; amiable ; a favorite among her friends, 
 respected by all who knew her, attractive in 
 person and manner. She was a widow, having 
 made an unfortunate marriage in Germany, 
 which had been terminated in New York ; then, 
 rather than go back to her father s house, where 
 she was greatly desired, she preferred to main 
 tain herself, in America, as a teacher of music, 
 which was one of her accomplishments. She 
 was younger than Mr. Ripley by thirty years, 
 so much younger, in fact, that he proposed at 
 6rst to adopt her as his daughter, doubting if 
 
244 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 he could ever marry again. This arrangement 
 being impracticable, he made her his wife. The 
 marriage took place in the autumn of 1865, 
 and, it is not too much to say, disclosed to him 
 a new life. It withdrew him from his seclusion ; 
 brought him into the social world ; carried him 
 for the first time to Europe ; threw him into re 
 lations with eminent people in the scientific and 
 literary circles of foreign lands ; enlarged the 
 sphere of his intellectual sympathy ; and, in a 
 word, introduced him to another order of men 
 and women. From this point his career as a pub 
 lic man may be said to have begun. He was, as 
 before, a man of letters, but his p*ower as a man 
 of letters was more widely acknowledged, if not 
 more extensively felt. He spent as much time 
 as ever at his desk, perhaps more ; but his 
 hours of solitude were fewer. Society occu 
 pied them, bringing the relief of change and 
 the stimulus of new thoughts. Contact with 
 his kind quickened his intellectual force. His 
 sympathies expanded, and while the Puritan 
 austerity of his character did not relax, the cor 
 diality of his attitude towards all sorts and con 
 ditions of men was more decidedly marked. He 
 seemed more worldly because his world was 
 larger. A letter to his sister belongs to thia 
 period : 
 
THE NEW DAT. 245 
 
 NEW YORK, February 25, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, We were delighted to re 
 ceive your kind letter of February 4, but we have both 
 of us been in such constant whirl of social engage 
 ments that writing has seemed pretty much out of 
 the question. We still continue to have a great many 
 invitations, and the accepting of the same and mak 
 ing calls in return absorb almost every hour of leis 
 ure, and we seldom have an evening at home. Lent 
 at last brings a little respite, and I begin to think that 
 it is quite a necessary, if not a beautiful, institution. 
 In spite of everything, however, I have written more 
 for " The Tribune " since November 1 than ever be 
 fore. My articles appear regularly every Thursday 
 in the Daily, making nearly a page always, and 
 never less than four columns ; but it is often some 
 time before they appear in the Semi- Weekly or 
 Weekly, if they get in at all. I do write a good deal 
 for " The Independent," and have had long articles 
 there on Robertson s Memoirs, Bushnell on the 
 Atonement, and Archbishop Hughes s Life. 
 
 I have decided to go to Europe about the last of 
 April, to remain till the middle of October. We 
 think of sailing from Boston, making our visit there 
 the week previous, and would like to spend a day or 
 two in Greenfield on the way, if it would n t put the 
 folks out there, with the idea of being obliged to en 
 tertain us. M. E. is very kind and affectionate, and 
 seems to take a great interest in her new relative, 
 whom I am sure she will admire very much when 
 she comes to know her. With kindest remembrances 
 to all the B. s. Yours ever truly, G. R. 
 
246 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 His first visit to the Old World was made in 
 the summer of 1866, the season of the short, 
 sharp war between Prussia and Austria, an 
 account of which he wrote in letters to " The 
 Tribune," distinguished by the fullness and ac 
 curacy of their information, as well as by sa 
 gacious observation of the sentiments of broth 
 erhood which were beginning to stir the heart 
 of the German people, and portended their 
 eventual unity. His wife s relations in Stutt 
 gart put him in the way of intelligence on this 
 subject ; it was the talk of the dinner-table, and 
 the papers in the excellent reading-room were 
 full of it. The following letters to his sister 
 tell the story of his travels and the condition of 
 his mind in words of his own. His journal re 
 cords the effect which the first view of the Alps 
 made on his mind: " It was singularly impress 
 ive and suggested profound reflection. But to 
 me it was no place for the study of natural the 
 ology, to which use it is often applied ; the ques 
 tion of absolute causation found no answer 
 here ; I was struck with the whole as a wonder 
 ful display of the physical forces of the universe. 
 Obvious law and order, however, were wanting. 
 The spectacle reminded me of nature in some 
 grim frolic or terrible convulsion, rather than 
 of the serene and fruitful harmonies which 
 stamp the eternal Cosmos." 
 
EUROPE. 247 
 
 STUTTGART, September 13. 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, On returning here on 
 the 1st instant from our August tour in Switzerland 
 and Italy, I found your good letter of August 13, 
 which gave us both great pleasure. We had a truly 
 delightful month in traveling : the weather, almost 
 without exception, was perfect, the accommodation 
 on the road excellent, and the journey throughout 
 filled with scenes of novelty and splendor. After 
 Bending the little Carrnela [daughter of Mrs. R. by 
 the former marriage] and her nurse to Stuttgart, we 
 left Baden-Baden on the 1st of August for Switzer 
 land. Since that time I have written nothing for 
 " The Tribune." Now that the war is over I could 
 find little to write about that would interest our read 
 ers ; for although the objects one meets with in trav 
 eling are full of excitement to the observer, they have 
 been described so often that they seem like an old 
 story. On leaving Baden, in the northwest corner of 
 Switzerland, I was trudging up a steep hill to see the 
 ancient cathedral, when who should I meet but my 
 friend C. T. Brooks, the Unitarian minister of New 
 port, and the translator of Goethe and Richter, whom 
 you must know by reputation, if not personally. The 
 rencontre was quite unexpected and very agreeable, 
 and I took it as a good omen on our entrance into 
 Switzerland. Our next stage was Neuchatel, passing 
 Lake Bienne, which is bordered for miles with luxu- 
 >iant vineyards, in which we could distinguish the 
 rich clusters of almost ripe grapes. At Neuchatel, 
 which is situated on a lake of the same name, we had 
 
248 GEOrtGE RIPLET. 
 
 our first distinct view of the Alps, giving us a fore 
 taste of the mountain scenery, which proved so grand 
 and often so terrific on a nearer acquaintance. From 
 Neuchfctel we proceeded to Geneva, passing through 
 Yverdon, the seat of Pestalozzi s famous experi 
 ments in education ; Lausanne, where Gibbon com 
 posed his immortal history ; and Coppet, where was. 
 the residence of Madame de Stael, during her ban 
 ishment from Paris by Napoleon. We then went up 
 the Lake of Geneva to Vevey, and, turning our faces 
 once more to the North, proceeded through Freyburg 
 to Berne, the capital of the Swiss Confederacy. 
 Here we met Parke Godwin and his family, who 
 sailed about a month before us, and have been pass 
 ing the summer in Switzerland. Our next movement 
 was to Thun, and up the lake of that name to Inter- 
 lachen, one of the most romantic spots in the alpine 
 valleys. From here we made excursions to Lauter- 
 brunnen, the Staubbach Falls, and the glaciers of 
 Grindelwald. The next day we crossed a branch of 
 the Alps by the Briinig Pass to Lucerne, and had 
 our first experience of the wonderful alpine roads, 
 which are among the greatest triumphs of civil en 
 gineering in the world. The path has often been 
 gained by cutting through the solid rock, making a 
 platform, or rather a shelf, for the carriage on the 
 side of a precipice. We look down upon the awful 
 depths below ; but the road is so guarded with strong 
 parapets that all sense of danger is lost. The scen 
 ery is at once majestic and beautiful. Frequent wa- 
 verfalls rush down the side of the mountain, gloomj 
 
EUROPE. 249 
 
 heights tower above, while meadows of the softest 
 green and richest vegetation repose in the distant 
 valleys at our feet. During our stay at Lucerne we 
 made an excursion on the celebrated lake, and visited 
 the scenes of the famous legends in the history of 
 William Tell. The scenery in this quarter is as re 
 markable in its kind as any in Switzerland, and made 
 a deep impression. Here we made the acquaintance 
 of a charming English family named Egremont, con 
 sisting of the widow of a clergyman and her two 
 daughters. They took a great fancy to Louisa, and 
 made themselves very agreeable . by their simple, 
 kind-hearted manners, and their refined and intelli 
 gent conversation. At Lucerne we also received a 
 visit from my old friends Mrs. Professor Robinson 
 (Talvi) and her daughters, from New York, who, 
 since the death of Dr. Robinson, have resided mostly 
 in Europe. They called, however, while we were 
 out, and as we had not time to return the visit we 
 did not see them. 
 
 "We now turn our steps towards the east of Switz 
 erland, and by way of Zug, Zurich, and Lake Wallen- 
 stadt proceed to Ragatz and Coire. Here we take a 
 private carriage for a three days journey over the 
 Alps to Lake Como, by the famous Splugen Pass, 
 and commence the most interesting portion of our 
 tour. We were accompanied by an Italian gentleman, 
 an old friend of my wife and her family, whom we 
 met at Baden, and whose experience we thought 
 would be of service to us in traveling in Italy. I 
 tan give no idea of the wonderful road over the al- 
 
250 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 pine heights, especially the stupendous Via Mala, 
 where a path is hewn out between two precipices 
 30 feet from each other, and between 500 and 600 
 feet above the Rhine, which forces itself through 
 the rocky bed as a narrow, roaring rivulet. Lake 
 Como, which we have traversed from end to end, 
 presents a striking contrast in its quiet loveliness, 
 and the smiling fields and beautiful villas on each 
 Bide. Thence we proceeded to Milan (noblest of 
 cities), Turin, Alessandria, Genoa, Parma and Mo- 
 dena, Bologna, Florence, Pisa, and Leghorn. We 
 did not think it prudent to extend our journey to 
 Rome and Naples, as the weather was growing very 
 hot, and the season for malarial fever and other dis 
 eases was at hand. The military occupation of the 
 railroads, near the seat of war, also prevented us from 
 fulfilling our intention of visiting Venice. On that 
 account we were able to make a longer stay at Bo 
 logna (the native place of our Italian friend) and at 
 Milan, as lovely a city, I am sure, as all the king 
 doms of the earth can show. It was time to retrace 
 our steps, and, proceeding up the delicious Lake Mag- 
 giore, we crossed the Alps in a diligence at night by 
 the Bernhardin Pass, and, stopping at Friedrichshafen 
 (where the King of Wiirtemberg has a rural resi 
 dence) and Ulm, we arrived safe and happy at Stutt 
 gart on Saturday, September 1st. We found Carmela 
 and the family well and delighted to see us again, 
 and our stay proves so agreeable that we decide tc 
 remain here till the 16th, and then go directly to 
 Paris, instead of leaving on the 10th for the Rhine, 
 
EUROPE. 251 
 
 Cologne, and Brussels, as we had intended. We ex 
 pect to remain in Paris about a fortnight, spending 
 only a day or two in England previous to sailing in 
 the Scotia, October 6th. I shall hope to be in New 
 York about the 16th, and shall be very glad to find a 
 letter from you at the Tribune office, as there will 
 be no time to receive one at Liverpool before we 
 sail. I have written to Mr. T., who takes charge of 
 my affairs in my absence, to engage us temporary 
 lodgings at the Fifth Avenue Hotel ; but beyond that 
 I have made no arrangement for the winter. After 
 the quiet arid beautiful domestic life which we have 
 enjoyed for so great a part of the summer, the pros 
 pect of a New York boarding-house is anything but 
 delightful, and I confess that I feel a little dismayed 
 at the enormous expense which is involved for such 
 comparatively unsatisfactory returns. The mode of 
 life in Europe is generally far more simple than with 
 us, especially among people of moderate circum 
 stances, although more real elegance and incompar 
 ably more comfort can be obtained at the same cost 
 than in New York or Boston. I do not wonder that 
 so many Americans prefer a long residence in Eu 
 rope from motives of economy, although for myself, 
 with pursuits so decidedly American, I am not 
 tempted to follow their example. It will be a gre^t 
 sacrifice to me, as well as to her mother, to leave be 
 hind the little Carmela. She is the most faultless and 
 charming child that you can imagine, with an uncom 
 monly fine intellect, a most affectionate and loving dis 
 position, and a beauty of character beyond her years 
 
252 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 But she is so much better off here than she could be 
 in New York that we do not hesitate for a moment. 
 Her grandparents, moreover, who love her more than 
 if she were their own child, would never consent to 
 part with her, and as they have brought her up a8 
 their own for more than six years their claim can 
 not be disputed. She is in the very best social cir 
 cles in Europe ; all her surroundings leave nothing to 
 be desired. She is in one of the best schools in 
 Germany, and, with a private governess and accom 
 plished masters in every special branch, will receive 
 an education that, with my limited means, it would 
 be impossible to give her in America. With every 
 thing that wealth and affection and the highest social 
 standing among those with whom her life will prob 
 ably be passed can impart, I think it would be folly 
 and selfishness on our part to insist on taking her 
 with us to America, where it is no easy matter to 
 establish and maintain a comfortable home for our 
 selves. 
 
 I am not surprised that you decided to remain 
 so long in Madison. As long as you can keep a 
 contented mind there, perhaps you are better off 
 than you could be in Massachusetts. After the de 
 parture of S B , you will not have much to 
 
 interest you, taking it for granted that Mrs. A 
 
 and her daughter will be in the vicinity of Boston. 
 I am glad you find so kind and intelligent a friend iii 
 
 W K , although I have little faith in any 
 
 attempts to promote Liberal Christianity in the West, 
 Nearly thirty years ago I went over the whole ground. 
 
HOME. 258 
 
 and, from personal observation from Albany to Chi 
 cago, became satisfied that during the present age the 
 prospects of religious progress in that quarter would 
 not be brilliant. The people are too secular, too 
 little inclined to study and reflection, too much ab 
 sorbed in business and politics, to appreciate the 
 serene and beautiful spirit of pure Christianity. 
 
 I saw the other day, in an American newspaper, 
 some account of the will of my old comrade, J. H., 
 who, it seems, died worth nearly half a million. He 
 had just graduated as a charity scholar at Cambridge 
 when I first saw him ; afterwards became a pro 
 fessor, then a railroad engineer, and married Mrs. F., 
 and that is about the last I ever heard of him. Pray 
 tell me all you know about it. I fear you will hardly 
 have patience to read this long yarn, and will be glad 
 that Louisa is so taken up with visitors that she is 
 not able to write this time. With kind regards from 
 her and me to Mr. B. and family, 
 
 I am truly yours, G. R. 
 
 NEW YORK, November 1, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR MARIANNE, I take it for granted that 
 you have received my letter of some ten days since, 
 announcing our safe return. We have taken very 
 pleasant lodgings, No. 122 Madison Avenue, in a 
 private family, with only six or eight other boarders, 
 and consider ourselves quite fortunate in having been 
 able to make arrangements for the winter so speedily 
 find so agreeably. The price, however, is so far in 
 Advance of my means and plans, that, as soon as I 
 
254 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 can find a more suitable shelter, I shall not fail to 
 do so. 
 
 Since my return I have not had leisure to turn 
 round, much less to write anything but what was 
 strictly necessary in my daily tasks, which I resumed 
 a week ago last Monday. I have constant visits, 
 both at the house and office, which consume my time, 
 and make the days and evenings all too short. Au 
 gusta, as we generally call her now, is warmly wel 
 comed home by our friends, both old and new. She 
 is still troubled with a cough, but she is looking re 
 markably well, and I trust the cough is not of a seri 
 ous nature, although it has now hung on for several 
 months. A few years ago she suffered in a similar 
 way from the effect of the Brooklyn air, and was 
 obliged to remove to New York, but was at last cured 
 by the use of cod-liver oil. She is very happy in our 
 new lodgings, and likes New York better than I do, 
 although she is naturally a little homesick at times 
 after the dear little Carmela and her parents, who 
 love her so much. But she makes friends of all who 
 know her. 
 
 I have written much more than I expected to do 
 when I began, and hope to receive an answer soon. 
 Don t think me indifferent to the progress of Liberal 
 Christianity in the West. I only suggested some ob 
 stacles from my own experience ; but no doubt great 
 thanges have taken place since I was there. 
 
 Ever yours, G. B. 
 
THE NEW DAY. 255 
 
 NEW YORK, February 12, 1867. 
 
 MT DEAR MARIANNE, I have both your letters 
 of January 18th and 28th, but, as usual, have been so 
 busy as not to be able to find a moment for writing 
 in reply. " The Tribune," in its enlarged form, gives 
 me more space than heretofore, and as a rule I have 
 two or three columns twice a week, usually on Thurs 
 days and Saturdays, besides a column of literary 
 items on Monday, which it is a good day s work to 
 prepare. I also find it convenient to do whatever 
 extra work I can find, and at present contribute a 
 good deal to "The Independent," which "The Spring 
 field Republican " says is edited by infidels and Uni 
 tarians. In last week s paper, the articles on Par- 
 ton s " Webster," N. P. Willis, and Victor Cousin 
 were mine, though without my name. I have other 
 articles on hand, and shall continue to write from 
 time to time, so you see my pen has to keep jogging 
 on in the old track, and leaves me little leisure for 
 anything else. We are not visiting quite so much as 
 last winter. Augusta still suffers from a cough, and 
 is not able to go out often in the evening, and, unless 
 the weather is pleasant, she stays in the house all 
 day. She had an attack of bronchitis three years 
 ago, and has coughed more or less ever since. In 
 other respects she has excellent health, is always in 
 fine spirits. 
 
 We had very pleasant letters last week from Stutt 
 gart, from Mr. and Mrs. Horner, little Carmela, her 
 governess, and from an old friend of my wife s, for 
 merly her governess, now living at Baden-Baden, 
 
256 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 where we saw her in July. Carmela writes me a 
 letter in English, in which she is making rapid and 
 good progress, and I trust will speak it as well as 
 German by the time we see each other again. She 
 ,s a sweet, loving child, very attractive in all her 
 ways, and without any apparent fault. We are both 
 homesick for her always, but I would not on any ac 
 count have her in our rough-and-tumble city until sho 
 is a good deal older than she is now. She is now 
 in a quiet, domestic atmosphere, with every possible 
 advantage for education and health, and, although 
 petted by her grandparents, seems to be entirely un 
 spoiled. She is very fond of her 4< papa and mamma," 
 and with her artless and affectionate nature wins the 
 love of all who know her. I forgot whether I told 
 you that she has taken my name, and is now called 
 Carmela Ripley. 
 
 I rather regret that a small annual sum could 
 not be provided for our sister during the short 
 time that she will probabJy remain with us ; as in 
 that case I should be able not only to make a lib 
 eral contribution, but to supply any deficiency, so 
 that she should not have the fear of want, which is 
 really worse than actual poverty, as long as she lives. 
 As it is, I presume that I can occasionally do enough, 
 with my limited means, to keep her from suffering, 
 although it is incomparably more to my taste to have 
 i fixed and regular arrangement than to leave such 
 things in uncertainty. I sent her $100 the first of 
 February, which I hope will do for the present; but 
 hould you learn in any way that there is need oi 
 
THE NEW DAT. 257 
 
 more, you must not hesitate to inform me. We can 
 not be too thankful that the enterprising Rachel did 
 not persuade her to join the wild-goose Jaffa scheme, 
 which she was strangely inclined to do a year ago. . . . 
 It was quite an adventure for you to go up to the 
 grand Sanhedrim at Milwaukee, and I am sure you 
 must have enjoyed it very much. I am happy to 
 hear such good accounts of Mr. Kimball ; your inter 
 est in him and in his religious plans is better for you 
 than any medicine, though I do not advise you to 
 take Liberal Christianity as a drug. He is evidently 
 one of the offshoots of the great banian-tree planted 
 by Theodore Parker, which take root wherever they 
 find a congenial soil, and bring forth abundance of 
 beautiful and wholesome fruit. What a treat it was 
 to you, to be sure, to meet the seraphic R. W. E. 
 away up there in your ends of the earth ! I have seen 
 him several times within a year, this winter, just 
 before he started for the West. I really think he 
 grows softer and more human in his old age. With 
 kindest love from Augusta and me to the family, 
 Ever yours faithfully, G. R. 
 
 The enjoyment derived from this visit, the 
 sense of refreshment after so many years of 
 wearing toil, the feeling of mental expansion, 
 of elation, arising from an extended intercourse 
 with nature and men, naturally made him wish 
 Co visit Europe again, more at his leisure; 
 accordingly, in the spring of 1869 he made 
 urrangements for a more comprehensive tour, 
 
 17 
 
258 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 embracing London, the abode of so many men 
 of power in science, philosophy, and literature 
 and Italy, which was to be the scene of the 
 ecclesiastical Council designed to reanimate the 
 faith, unite the sympathies, and quicken the zeal 
 of Catholic Christendom. The experiences of 
 this trip are recorded in a series of remarkable 
 letters to " The Tribune," too long to be printed 
 in full, and too solid to be abbreviated. The 
 first is dated "at sea, May 20th." Mr. Ripley 
 enjoyed the ocean voyage, the leisure, the oppor 
 tunity for random reading, the easy, various 
 society, the stir of life among the sailors, the 
 aspects of water and sky. He had no suffering 
 from sea-sickness, was happy and companiona 
 ble, full of practical wisdom, without assump 
 tion or pretense. He was but ten days in 
 London, at the height of the season, too; his 
 pockets filled with letters of introduction to dis 
 tinguished people, whom he was interested to 
 see ; his mind teeming with new suggestions, 
 and alive to all impressions of genius in indi 
 viduals and in the people. Every hour, con 
 sequently, was occupied. The description of 
 Derby Day was written in London, May 27th, 
 but it was not till he reached Baden-Baden, in 
 the middle of July, that time was allowed for 
 a tranquil review of his exciting visit to the 
 metropolis of the world. The usual objects 
 
ENGLAND. 259 
 
 attract the stranger are passed by with 
 out notice : the Tower, the ancient city, the 
 historic houses, streets, squares; the Temple, 
 the Monument, the relics of antique grandeur, 
 the Museum, the public and private picture- 
 galleries, the art collections, the theatres, clubs, 
 concerts, parks, gardens, palaces, receive no 
 attention. He is absorbed in the study of 
 human nature in its actual condition, the 
 physical and mental peculiarities of the peo 
 ple, the state of society, efforts to reform 
 abuses, popular habits and tastes, movements 
 towards harmony in trade and religion, cur 
 rents of opinion among scientific men of all 
 orders, tendencies of speculation in the world 
 of thought, the men and women whose names 
 were associated with intellectual advance, the 
 prospects of civilization in its higher aspira 
 tions. Two or three extracts from a not very 
 copious and somewhat too personal journal for 
 public eyes will give an idea of his alertness of 
 mind: 
 
 Wrote a note to Prof. Jowett, asking permission 
 to pay my respects to him, as a prominent man in 
 the English movement for a more liberal theology. 
 Had a very gracious reception. Talked of Emerson, 
 T. Parker, Frances Power Cobbe, with whom he has 
 imtire sympathy, and Bunsen. Touched on President 
 Johnson and American politics generally. Sound in 
 
260 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 Northern faith. He is a mild, pleasant-looking man, 
 of about forty-five, of brisk, lively manners (perhaps 
 not unlike Dr. Bushnell), quite free from affectation, 
 and an agreeable, unpretending talker. English in hia 
 tones and ways. Cake and wine on the table, which 
 he offered me, but I did not partake. He keeps 
 bachelor s hall in a spacious suite of rooms, elegant 
 but not splendid. Very comfortable and home-look 
 ing, a mode of life which every true student might 
 envy. Celibacy is common in Oxford, but by no 
 means universal even among the Fellows. Cultivated 
 to a high degree, and with excellent taste, his better 
 instincts prompt him to seek a more liberal theology 
 than that of the Church, but he is a follower of lead 
 ing minds, not a path-finder. Probably inferior to 
 Colenso in boldness and sagacity, certainly in prac 
 tical influence. 
 
 Impressed with the commercial greatness and power 
 of London. Admirable physique of the people. Emer 
 son s description true to the life. Prevailing igno 
 rance beyond a certain line. Great order and ex 
 ternal morality in the streets. 
 
 I like very much to witness the displays of human 
 strength. Whether physical or intellectual, the spec 
 tacle is amost equally interesting. The sight of or 
 ganized labor has a perpetual charm. 
 
 Called on John Bright, Herbert Spencer, Louis 
 Blanc, W. H. Channing. None at home but Louis 
 Blanc. A keen, black-eyed, vivacious Frenchman, 
 
EUROPE. 261 
 
 fall of fire and enthusiasm, demonstrative in his man 
 ner, and eloquent in his discourse. He speaks Eng 
 lish correctly, but with a strong French accent, uses 
 much gesture, and declaims rather than talks. He 
 commands the language more easily in. its rhetorical 
 forms than in familiar conversation. He seems to 
 be born for a political orator, and should be in the 
 legislature. We talked of French and American 
 politics, on which he gave an elaborate dissertation. 
 His bearing is earnest and affectionate, too expressive 
 for common occasions. 
 
 An idea of his. activity may be conveyed by 
 the subjects of his letters: G. W. Smalley, 
 John Bright, Thorold Rogers, a cooperative 
 congress ; the working people of England ; 
 Thomas Hughes, W. H. Channing, meeting 
 for free Christian Union, Athanase Coquerel, 
 J. J. Taylor, James Martineau ; Scientific Inter 
 views, Professor Tyndall, Philosophical Club, 
 Professor Huxley ; Mr. Congreve and Positiv 
 ism, Dr. Carpenter; Herbert Spencer; Thomas 
 Carlyle ; Louis Blanc ; Frances Power Cobbe ; 
 Henry Morley; English railways, porters, cab 
 men, horses ; English hotels, costume, business 
 habits, mode of speaking, etc. These mani 
 fold themes are treated deliberately, carefully, 
 always discerningly, usually with all needed 
 fullness. In cases where his sympathy was en 
 listed, or where the public interest might be 
 
262 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 supposed to be secure, the notice became di* 
 cussion, intelligent and ample. 
 
 The early summer was spent in travel, of 
 which no record remains. For him there would 
 not be much in Paris, or any smaller cities 
 between London and the delightful valley where 
 lies the charming Baden-Baden, the favor 
 ite summer resort of his wife s family. Here 
 the tired man had rest. Early in August he 
 started for a few weeks travel in Switzer 
 land and Southern Germany. His course led 
 directly to Geneva by way of Basle and Neu- 
 ch&tel; thence to Chamouny, Martigny, Ville- 
 neuve, Vevey, Berne, Interlaken, and over the 
 Brunig to Lucerne, stopping on the road long 
 enough to visit places of interest, enjoy the 
 scenery, and take in the spirit of the country ; 
 from Lucerne to Fluelen, up the St. Gothard 
 and Furca Passes to the Rhone glacier, coming 
 back to Lucerne. This was a fresh starting- 
 point to Zurich, Schaffhausen, Constance, and 
 Germany. Ulm, Augsburg, Nuremberg, Hof, 
 and Dresden led by slow stages to Berlin, which 
 was reached in season for the Humboldt festi 
 val, September 14th. Here were Mr. and Mrs. 
 George Bancroft, and here a delightful week 
 was spent in public and private festivities. 
 From Berlin the travelers went to Hamburg 
 for a few days, thence back to Stuttgart through 
 
ITALY. 263 
 
 Hanover, Frankfort, Mannheim, and Heidelberg. 
 At Stuttgart there was another rest from Sep 
 tember 26th to October 26th. 
 
 From Stuttgart Mr. Ripley and his wife went 
 to Munich, Vienna, over the Semmering Pass to 
 Gratz, Trieste, Venice, Milan, Bologna, Flor 
 ence, to Rome. Neither Munich nor Vienna 
 engaged long or deeply a man who had no 
 passionate love for painting, sculpture, music, 
 or the purely aesthetic arts which minister so 
 largely to the enjoyment of strangers in those 
 pleasant cities. The grandeur of the Semmer- . 
 ing Pass impressed him as much by the comfort 
 of its railway accommodations and the skill of 
 the engineering as by the wild ness of its wintry 
 landscape. The charming town of Gratz was 
 interesting through the refinement of its soci 
 ety, the intellectual character of its best people, 
 and the beauty of its situation. At Trieste he 
 visited the tomb of Winkelmann, and renewed 
 his old acquaintance with Mr. A. W. Thayer, 
 the devotee of Beethoven. Venice detained 
 him a few days, but had no enchantment for 
 him. In Milan he admired the cleanly streets 
 and well-developed population. The art of 
 Florence engaged him less than the schools, 
 churches, sanitary condition, and municipal 
 regulations of the town. The Florence of the 
 future was more interesting to him than the 
 
264 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 Florence of the past. Between Florence and 
 Rome he made no stop, though Perugia and 
 Assisi both lay in his track. His impressions 
 of Rome are best conveyed in the letters which 
 he sent to " The Tribune," wherein he described 
 not only the (Ecumenical Council which he 
 went there to portray, but the city itself, as it 
 appeared twelve years ago. On the whole, it is 
 not probable that the famous gathering in the 
 Eternal City had any more capable critic than 
 he. Scholars inside the Church were preju 
 diced one way ; scholars outside the Church 
 were prejudiced another. Mr. Ripley was a 
 Protestant, but he was a philosopher and a man 
 of letters, serious as well as candid, as free 
 from prejudices as one can be who has con 
 victions ; for though tfulness and love of truth 
 combined to make him just. He was a close 
 observer of whatsoever came under his eye ; for 
 example, in Rome he noticed that the horsea 
 were shod only on the forefeet, and were driven 
 with a nose-band instead of a bit, in single 
 harness, though provided with a safety rein 
 communicating with a curb-bit in case of need. 
 He descants on the health of Rome, and makes 
 chrewd observations on the evil mode of build 
 ing, ventilation, heating. A little hump-backed 
 beggar girl on the Spanish steps attracts his 
 attention and enlists his interest more than the 
 
ROME. 265 
 
 grandees. The Jews in the Ghetto engage hia 
 sympathy by their family affection, their in 
 dustry, their sobriety, and their patience. He 
 is disappointed in the beauty of feature and 
 form of the Roman women. He studies the 
 countenances of the priests, the habits of the 
 common people, the effects of the Catholic re* 
 ligion and the papal rule on the population, 
 the organization of instruction, the character of 
 journalism, and whatever besides may concern 
 an observer of society. 
 
 As the proceedings of the Council became 
 monotonous and spring advanced, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Ripley left Rome for a short trip to the south 
 of Italy, Naples, Palermo, of which no record 
 remains. The climate was not favorable to ex 
 cursions, and, under such circumstances, there is 
 little enjoyment in those regions, especially to 
 a traveler who is without home pursuits. The 
 summer brought them back to Germany and 
 to the routine of family life, always so grateful 
 to this man of studious habits. His hearty en 
 joyment of intellectual things and of New Eng 
 land associations was amusingly shown in the 
 delight he expressed on discovering at a book 
 shop a volume of Mr. Emerson s essays, which 
 had appeared since his departure from home. 
 His glee finds voice in his joarnal, where it is 
 unusual that so much space is given to any one 
 tubject : 
 
266 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 I discovered a copy of Emerson s " Society and 
 Solitude," republished in London by Sampson Low. 
 The sight of it was like manna in the wilderness. I 
 became the happy owner of it at once, and it afforded 
 me a rich feast for the rest of the journey. Some 
 portions of it, I think, are equal to anything that 
 Emerson has ever written. Emerson is a great mas 
 ter in his way. His style has an incomparable charm- 
 Its silvery rhythm captivates the ear. The affluence 
 of his illustrations diffuses a flavor of oriental spicery 
 over his pages. As he confesses in the essay on 
 " Books," his learning is second-hand ; but every 
 thing sticks which his mind can appropriate. He de 
 fends the use of translations, and I doubt whether he 
 has ever read ten pages of his great authorities, Plato, 
 Plutarch, Montaigne, or Goethe, in the original. He 
 is certainly no friend of profound study, any more 
 than of philosophical speculation. Give him a few 
 brilliant and suggestive glimpses, and he is content. 
 His catalogue of books is limited in the extreme, and 
 presents few hints of practical value. Much of the 
 work is devoted to the comparative influence of soli 
 tude and society, in addition to the chapter with that 
 title. The subject is touched in several of the essays, 
 especially in those on " Clubs " and " Domestic Life." 
 Emerson is fond of conversation, but it always disap 
 points him. With him it is an experiment constantly 
 repeated, but always without success. His final 
 conclusion is that the true man has no companion. 
 There may be times when two persons may hold gen 
 uine communion, but the presence of a third person is 
 
EMERSON. 267 
 
 impertinent, and always breaks the charm. Such oc 
 casions, however, are rare, and must be numbered by 
 moments, and not by hours. His remarks on Art 
 show his want of philosophic culture. The principal 
 point which he urges is that Nature is the foundation 
 of Art, and that the great Artist is spontaneous, and 
 not reflective ; both good points, but by no means 
 original. Take away the splendid language in which 
 they are clothed, I find that but little valuable in 
 struction remains. There are frequent hints of the 
 grand Platonic theory of the True, the Beautiful, the 
 Good, as the exponents of the Infinite in Humanity, 
 which long since ripened in my mind, as the true 
 " Intellectual System of the Universe ; " but he does 
 not appear to be aware of its fathomless significance. 
 
 In thus renewing my acquaintance with Emerson, 
 I am struck with certain rare combinations which may 
 serve to explain his position. His rejection of dog 
 mas is cool and merciless ; but he shows no sympathy 
 with vulgar and destructive radicalism. He asserts 
 an unlimited freedom of the individual, but maintains 
 
 moral tone, rigid almost to asceticism. With the 
 wild havoc which he makes of popular opinion, he al 
 ways respects the dignity of human nature. Emer 
 son is essentially a poet. His intuitions are in the 
 form of images. Few men have such positive tend 
 encies toward the Ideal. But his sympathy with ex 
 ternal nature is equally strong. He is a keen and 
 accurate observer. His perceptions are true, so far 
 as concerns the material world and the qualities of 
 character that are universal iu man. Hia judgment 
 
268 GEORGE R1PLET. 
 
 of individuals is often prejudiced. The practical 
 shrewdness interwoven with his poetical nature is 
 one of the secrets of his power. You attempt to fol 
 low his lofty flight among the purple clouds, almost 
 believing that he has " hitched his wagon to a star," 
 when he suddenly drops down to earth, and surprises 
 you with an utterance of the homeliest wisdom. Ou 
 this account, when they get over the novelty of his 
 manner, plain men are apt to find themselves at home 
 with him. His acquaintance with common things, 
 all household ways and words, the processes of ev- 
 ery-day life on the farm, in the kitchen and stable, 
 as well as in the drawing-room and library, engages 
 their attention, and produces a certain kindly warmth 
 of fellowship, which would seem to be incompatible 
 with the coldness of his nature. Emerson is not with 
 out a tincture of science. He often makes a happy 
 use of its results, in the way of comparison and illus 
 tration. But I do not suppose that he could follow 
 a demonstration of Euclid, or one of the fine analyses 
 in physics of Tyndall or Huxley. Of such a writer 
 as Herbert Spencer he has probably no more than a 
 faint comprehension. Emerson has less wit than I 
 have usually been inclined to believe ; of humor only 
 a slender trace. Perhaps the subtlety and refinement 
 of his illustrations may sometimes have the appear 
 ance of wit, but not its real flavor or effect. 
 
 It may be interesting to compare this with 
 in earlier sketch : 
 
 With the admiration that Mr. Emerson s works 
 
EMERSON. 269 
 
 nave called forth to so remarkable an extent, it would 
 be a poor compliment to the understanding of his 
 readers to question their extraordinary merit. There 
 must be something in their intrinsic character which 
 touches a deep chord in the human heart, for they are 
 almost entirely destitute of the qualities which are 
 usually the conditions of a high reputation. 
 
 One is immediately struck with the passionless tone 
 in which Mr. Emerson s statements are set forth. 
 They seem like the utterance of a being who has no 
 part in flesh and blood. He is never beguiled into 
 error by the indulgence of his sympathies. His 
 words are dealt out with an elaborate nicety, as if 
 they were the dread oracles of fate. This habitual 
 reticence gives a peculiar coloring to his style. It 
 has the purity, the radiant whiteness, of the virgin 
 snow, but also its coldness. . . . 
 
 The passionless tone of his writings, combined with 
 the tendency to a sharp and unrelenting analysis, pre 
 serves Mr. Emerson from every symptom of a sec 
 tarian or party bias. ... In fact, his aversion to 
 system would prevent him, under any circumstances, 
 from exerting a more than individual influence ; sys 
 tem to him is slavery. ... If we may guess the 
 methods naturally adopted by his intellect, from the 
 universal character of his writings, we should say 
 that any regular sequence or continuity of thought 
 was altogether foreign to his habits. He lives in the 
 sphere of contemplation, not of consecutive reflec 
 tion. We find no traces of the progressive evolution 
 il thought which produces such an admirable effect 
 
270 GEORGE RIPLE1. 
 
 in works, for instance, like the Dialogues of Plato, 
 which Mr. Emerson cannot but acknowledge as mas 
 terpieces of human genius. . . . 
 
 Nor in the sphere of moral convictions is Mr. 
 Emerson free from similar inconsequences. He pays 
 H profound homage to the moral sentiment in man, 
 the eternal law of right, which manifests itself equally 
 in purity of heart and the gravitation of the planets, 
 but he has no perception of the passionate humanity, 
 the potent attraction, which identifies private and uni 
 versal interests ; and accordingly he finds the highest 
 form of character in the preservation of a stern, frigid, 
 Btoical individuality. This error is the cardinal defect 
 of his writings, and exhausts them of the moral vital 
 ity and vigor which would give an electric glow to 
 his brilliant intuitions. . . . 
 
 The secret of Mr. Emerson s unquestionable 
 strength lies in the profound sincerity of his nature. 
 In his freedom from all affectation, in his attachment 
 to reality, in his indignant rejection of all varnish, 
 gilding, and foppery, whether in character or in liter 
 ature, he has scarcely an equal. He looks at the 
 universe with his own eyes, and presents the report 
 of his vision, like the testimony of a man under oath. 
 He feels the intrinsic baseness of deception, and is 
 equally unwilling to play the part of a pretender or 
 a dupe. In listening even to his mystic suggestions, 
 you are sure that no attempt is made to put you off 
 with words, and that the obscurest expression stands 
 for some fact in the mind of the speaker. He gives 
 you himself, and not the dry bones of some grisly 
 tncestor. 
 
EMERSON. 271 
 
 This truthfulness to himself is the pledge of origi 
 nality. His writings thus possess the sparkling fresh 
 ness of a salient fountain. His thought and his im- 
 gery alike are the product of his own nature. They 
 could not have been derived from any other source. 
 Used by any one but himself, they would appear 
 forced and trivial. But flowing in their honeyed 
 sweetness from his lips, they seem so redolent of all 
 delicious aromas that they might even allure the 
 swarm of bees that rested on the mouth of Plato. 
 
 Mr. Emerson s instincts impel him to penetrate to 
 the hidden essence of things. He is never content 
 with the most obvious view, which is often only the 
 mask of reality. If this sometimes gives his pages 
 an air of too subtle refinement, and leads us to sus 
 pect that many of his Orphic sentences are only in 
 genious conceits or brilliant paradoxes, it also adds a 
 marvelous force to the frequently occurring passages 
 which startle us by the radiant light they throw on 
 subjects which had been concealed in the " Infinite 
 Profound." This tendency characterizes all his judg 
 ments of man, of history, and of literature. His 
 opinions derive a peculiar value from their unceas 
 ing exercise. Even when we are compelled to show 
 them no quarter, it is never on the ground of their 
 being superficial or commonplace. 
 
 His philosophy, which teaches that God and him 
 self are the sole existences, is confirmed by his per 
 sonal idiosyncrasies. Hence he leaves no realm of 
 beauty uuvisited. He gathers the most impressive 
 and magnificent images from every sphere of nat ure, 
 
272 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 from the loftiest to the lowest. The plow in the fur 
 row, " the meal in the tub, and the milk in the pan," 
 present him no less fruitful sources of inspiration 
 than the starry heavens and the purple dawn. Coldly 
 as he looks on individual life and sympathy in them 
 selves considered, he loves to draw materials for his 
 affluent poetical eloquence from the humblest phases 
 of humanity. He has sufficient familiarity with the 
 lore of books to furnish out a dozen pedants. In the 
 exuberant life of his expressions we never think of 
 his learning, because he has not been mastered by it 
 himself. 
 
 But charming as all this was, the worker 
 could not remain idle. A socialist convention 
 at Stuttgart excited an ardent interest in the 
 old Brook Farmer, whose aspirations after a 
 better human condition never became cool, and 
 who, though very far from being a socialist in 
 any customary sense, could not help watch 
 ing sympathetically any movements looking 
 towards a readjustment of social relations. 
 This, too, was the summer of the war between 
 France and Prussia, the beginnings and early 
 stages of which he reported in four remarkable 
 letters. 
 
 In the autumn of 1870 he was again in New 
 York, at his post of duty, rejoicing in the exer 
 cise of his literary faculties under conditions of 
 bis own choosing, and in New York he passed 
 the remainder of his days. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 RECOGNITION. 
 
 A NATIONAL INSTITUTE of Letters, Arts, 
 and Sciences was projected in 1868, in the or 
 ganization of which Mr. Ripley took an active 
 part, and in the conduct of which he would have 
 been prominent, if it had succeeded. The plan 
 commanded his entire sympathy. So hearty 
 was his interest that he spoke of his member 
 ship in a slight sketch of himself, made for a 
 biographical volume, and, in his journal, solilo 
 quized in a strain of earnestness that is inter 
 esting in itself, but especially interesting as re 
 vealing the bent of his disposition : 
 
 For myself, I have no ambition to be gratified in 
 the matter. I rather like the consciousness of pos 
 sessing merit, which, with my want of sympathy with 
 the present form of society, I have taken pains to 
 \iide, rather than to bring before the public. But it 
 pleases my taste to breathe again the intellectual and 
 literary atmosphere in which I was so much at home 
 in Boston, to which I am so much a stranger in 
 New York. Hence, this Institute awakens in me an 
 nterest something like those glorious reunions of old 
 
 38 
 
274 GEORGE R1PLEI. 
 
 times. The presence of great, or even greatly culti 
 vated, men exerts a certain gracious magnetism ovei 
 my nature, calls out my best faculties, and gives me 
 higher consciousness. 
 
 But, above all, this Institute may do much toward 
 spreading sound knowledge, elevating the intellectual 
 standard, and giving a healthy tone to literature it 
 this country. I feel something as Buckminster did 
 when he said that he was justified in laying out so 
 much money on the purchase of books, because his 
 library might have some effect in preventing the 
 country from lapsing into " unlettered barbarism," 
 to which it was exposed by the power of the money- 
 making interest. 
 
 Hence, I mean to work for the Institute as far as 
 I can, without neglecting other duties. It will give 
 me a stronger tie to society ; it will help to brighten 
 and keep fresh my powers ; it will open to me a 
 sphere for the use of gifts that have lain dormant 
 for some time, and enable me to do more for the 
 objects to which my life has been devoted, the im 
 provement and elevation of mankind. 
 
 In February, 1874, the choice fell on him to 
 deliver the address on occasion of laying the 
 corner-stone of the new Tribune building on 
 the site of the old one. His words are worth 
 remembering : 
 
 FRIENDS AND FELLOW-LABORERS, We have 
 assembled to-day in commemoration of the past arid 
 for the consecration of the future. The origin a. 
 
THE TRIBUNE." 275 
 
 foundation of " The Tribune " waa laid in sentiment 
 and ideas. Horace Greeley was a man of no less pro 
 found convictions than of lofty aspirations. The ten 
 derness of his emotional nature was matched by the 
 strength of his intellect. He was a believer in the 
 progress of thought and the development of science ; 
 in the progress of society and the development of 
 humanity. Under the influence of this inspiration, 
 " The Tribune " was established more than thirty 
 years ago. At that time its basis was spiritual, and 
 not material ; strong in ideas, but not powerful in 
 brick and mortar, in granite or marble, in machinery 
 or in money. We have come to-day not to remove 
 this foundation, but to combine it with other elements, 
 and thus to give it renewed strength and consistency. 
 It is our purpose to clothe the spiritual germ with a 
 material body, to incorporate the invisible forces 
 which inspired the heart of our founder in a visible 
 form, in the shape of a goodly temple, massive in its 
 foundation, fair in its proportions, and sound in its 
 purposes. The new "Tribune" of to-day, like the 
 old " Tribune " of the past, is to be consecrated to the 
 development of ideas, the exposition of principles, and 
 the promulgation of truth. The ceremony which is 
 now about to be performed typifies the union of spir 
 itual agencies with material conditions, and thus pos 
 sesses a significance and beauty which anticipate the 
 character of the coming age. The future which lies 
 before us, it is perhaps not presumptuous to affirm, 
 vill be marked by a magnificent synthesis of the 
 oroes of material nature and the power of spiritual 
 deas. 
 
276 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 Allow me one word in illustration of this prophecy 
 and I will yield the place to the fair hands and the 
 fair spirit whose presence on this occasion crowns the 
 scene with a tender grace. 
 
 About two years before the establishment of "The 
 Tribune," dating from the death of Hegel in 1831, 
 and of Goethe in the following year, the tendency of 
 thought on the continent of Europe, which had been 
 of an intensely ideal or spiritual character, began to 
 assume an opposite direction. Physical researches 
 rapidly took precedence of metaphysical speculation. 
 Positive science was inaugurated in the place of ab 
 stract philosophy. The spiritual order was well-nigh 
 eclipsed by the wonderful achievements of the mate 
 rial order. A new dynasty arose which knew not Jo 
 seph, and the ancient names of Plato and Descartes 
 and Leibnitz were dethroned by the stalwart host 
 which took possession of the domain of physical sci 
 ence. I need not rehearse the splendid discoveries 
 which have signalized this period. Such acquisitions 
 to the treasury of positive human knowledge have 
 never been made in an equal time in the history of 
 thought. More light has been thrown on the material 
 conditions of our existence on earth than has been en 
 joyed before, since the morning-stars first sang to 
 gether. But the signs of the times indicate the com 
 mencement of a reaction. The age accepts the results 
 of physical research, but refuses to regard them as the 
 limit of rational belief. In resolving matter into mole- 
 lules and molecules into atoms, the most illustriouj 
 altivators of physical science cheerfully confess tha 
 
RECOGNITION. 277 
 
 Jiey arrive at invisible forces, which no crucible can 
 analyze, no microscope detect, no arithmetic explain. 
 The alleged materialism of Tyndall and Huxley thus 
 affords an unexpected support to the idealism of 
 Berkeley. 
 
 " The Tribune," it may be predicted, will continue 
 to represent the intellectual spirit of the age. Faith 
 ful to its past history, it will welcome every new dis 
 covery of truth. Free from the limitations of party, 
 in philosophy or religion, in politics or science, it will 
 embrace a wider range of thought, and pursue a 
 higher aim in the interests of humanity. Watching 
 with its hundred eyes the events of the passing time, 
 it will wait for the blush of the morning twilight, 
 which harbingers the dawn of a brighter day. As 
 we now place the votive tablet on its rocky bed, let it 
 symbolize the radiant scroll of human knowledge re 
 posing on the foundation of eternal truth. 
 
 That same year (the tribute was richly de 
 served, for never did private man make his in 
 fluence more widely or commandingly felt in 
 high places than he) the University of Michi 
 gan conferred on him the degree of LL. D. It 
 was fitting that such an honor should be paid 
 by a western college to one who had so closely 
 at heart the welfare of mankind, and who cher 
 ished such ardent hopes for the future of hu 
 manity. From one of the older institutions of 
 ihe country, Harvard or Yale, such a tribute 
 might not have been equally appropriate ; for, 
 
278 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 though advanced in years, he was a child of the 
 new age, not a creature of the past so much as 
 a builder of the coming civilization. From this 
 moment he was a Doctor of Laws, he, the 
 disciple of a spiritual philosophy, the inaugura- 
 tor of Brook Farm, the prophet of a better dis 
 pensation, the critic of codes and institutions, 
 the devotee of ideas, the less than half-hearted 
 observer of forms which failed to convey a 
 thought. That the honor was welcome we may 
 easily believe, for the recognition of merit is al 
 ways gratifying to its possessor ; and probably 
 it was not the less welcome as coming from the 
 land of promise. 
 
 No one took more hearty interest than he in 
 the tributes of respect that were paid to his 
 friend Bayard Taylor after his appointment as 
 Minister to Berlin, and previous to his departure 
 on his mission. The Penn Club of Philadelphia 
 invited him to a reception, which he could not 
 attend, but to which he sent a response full of 
 admiration for the traveler, journalist, poet, 
 and man of letters, who had gladdened every 
 State in the Union, and who, without doubt, 
 would apply the old Quaker virtues to his new 
 sphere as a diplomatist. The condition of his 
 health also forbade his taking part at the ban 
 quet given to Mr. Taylor in New York. At the 
 final hour he was obliged to send the following 
 note : 
 
BAYARD TAYLOR. 279 
 
 37 WEST 19TH STREET, April 4, 187a 
 DEAR MR. COWDIN, At the last moment I find, 
 as I feared, that my health will not permit me to at 
 tend the banquet this evening. 
 
 Having labored side by side with Bayard Taylor 
 for so many years, for, strange as it may appear, to 
 night he is my senior in the profession of journalism 
 in this city, having so long witnessed his devotion 
 to duty, his energy of action, the kindliness of his dis 
 position, and the sweet and humane piety of his nat 
 ure, if I may so call it, as manifested in the love of 
 whatever is beautiful and good, I should have been 
 gratified to comply with your request to " offer a few 
 remarks ; " but as I cannot now expand into a speech, 
 I will ask your leave to offer a sentiment : 
 
 " Our honored and beloved guest : the pupil of two 
 school-masters of the most widely opposite character, 
 the immortal founder of Pennsylvania and the 
 illustrious poet of Germany, who, combining the 
 home-bred principles of William Penn with the cult 
 ured wisdom of Goethe, will bring the power of sim 
 plicity to the practice of diplomacy. 
 
 Whose armor is his honest thought, 
 And simple truth his utmost skill. " 
 
 I remain, dear Mr Cowdin, yours faithfully, 
 
 GEO. RIPLET. 
 
 His feeling in regard to William Cullen Bry 
 ant, who died in June of the same year, is ex 
 pressed in the draft of an epitaph, which was 
 found among his papers. It was never used : 
 
280 GEORGE RIP LET. 
 
 Sacred to the Memory of 
 W. C. B. 
 
 In order of time and excellence of genius 
 one of the fathers of American poetry ; 
 a writer of consummate English prose; by his wi 
 and insight a journalist of masterly power ; 
 
 though holding no public office, 
 statesman, of incorruptible integrity, of lofty pa 
 triotism, and of supreme devotion to the highest 
 
 interests of his country. 
 As a man, austere, religious, self-contained ; 
 
 his life was an expression of his poetry, 
 
 his death an illustration of the spirit of " Thanatopsis." 
 
 B. Nov. 3, 1794. 
 
 When Oliver Wendell Holmes reached his 
 seventieth birthday nothing was more natural 
 than that the publishers of " The Atlantic 
 Monthly," which he had glorified by his genius, 
 should celebrate the occasion by a banquet ; nor 
 was anything more natural than their wish that 
 the literary editor of " The Tribune " should 
 grace it by his presence. He could not go to 
 Boston, but he responded to the invitation in a 
 tone that gave assurance of his sincere affection 
 for the guest, and of his readiness to acknowl 
 edge the service of all good workers in the cause 
 of letters. The word of regret which represented 
 him at the Brunswick breakfast carried in it a 
 Heart full of thanks : 
 
0. W. HOLMES. 281 
 
 NEW YORK, November 25, 18?9. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I am truly sorry that it is not in 
 my power to accept your kind invitation. It would 
 give me the sincerest pleasure to join in the honors 
 to the beloved poet, who, from my pupil in the uni 
 versity, has become my teacher in the high school of 
 life. I would fain add a leaf to the laurel which will 
 crown his brow, and confess my debt for the smiling 
 wisdom, the exquisite humor, the joyous hilarity, the 
 tender pathos that softens the lambent wit of the 
 man who, on the verge of old age, has never grown 
 old, and with the experience of years preserves the 
 freshness of youth. 
 
 With my best wishes that the light of his eventide 
 may long shine with the morning beauty of his early 
 manhood, I am most cordially, 
 
 His friend and yours, GEO. RIPLET. 
 
 When the plan of a "Memorial History of 
 Boston " was outlined, a chapter entitled " Bos 
 ton s Place in the History of Philosophic 
 Thought," in the fourth and last volume, was, 
 naturally, assigned to Mr. J. Elliot Cabot, a 
 Boston man, living near Boston, an accomplished 
 scholar, a diligent student in philosophy, a 
 profound and original thinker on the problems 
 which have most deeply engaged the human 
 mind. On his declining the task^ by reason of 
 preoccupation, it was, at the suggestion of ex- 
 tellent judges, Dr. F. H. Hedge being of the 
 number offered to Mr. Ripley, as the best man 
 
282 GEORGE RIFLE T. 
 
 they could have ; his remoteness from Boston 
 being waived in consideration of the impartial- 
 ity and comprehensiveness which distance might 
 give to his view. He, though immersed in lit 
 erary occupation, accepted the duty at once, 
 and instantly set about the studies preparatory 
 to his sketch. He measured his space, selected 
 his names, refreshed and fortified his recollec 
 tions, searched the processes of development, 
 wrote, rewrote, weighed his words in scales of 
 exact justice, and submitted his manuscript to 
 his intimate friend George Bancroft before 
 trusting it to the publisher. The pen dropped 
 from his fingers midway in the work, and the 
 uncompleted chapter was finished by another 
 hand ; admirably finished, too, but not quite 
 according to the plan which Mr. Ripley laid 
 out, and which he alone could complete. The 
 Bcheme was as remarkable for clearness as it 
 was for candor of judgment, and the composi 
 tion is among the most careful productions of 
 his skill. The space accorded to the writer did 
 not permit a more extended range of thought , 
 it is simply astonishing that, having no more 
 room, so much that was valuable should have 
 been compressed into it. It is matter of regret 
 that Mr. Ripley s excessive modesty prevented 
 his yielding to Dr. Channing s frequent re 
 quest that he would write an account of mod 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 283 
 
 ern philosophical systems. The fragment left 
 us in the " Memorial History " so penetrat 
 ing, calm, and fair makes the regret keen. 
 A comprehensive work done in that spirit would 
 possess singular worth ; for such complete ex 
 clusion of the partisan temper, combined with 
 firmness of intellectual description, rare in any 
 discussion, is quite unexampled in the discus 
 sion of those tormenting subjects which have 
 been closely bound up with the issues of relig 
 ious faith. The admixture of sentimentality 
 with charitableness commonly weakens the tol 
 eration, and makes the impartiality to be some 
 thing less than justice. In the case of George 
 Ripley the line between religious feeling and 
 philosophic thought was so sharply drawn that 
 he could be at the same time discerning and 
 believing, devout and fair. In his disposition, 
 literature and dogma never clashed. The in 
 tellectual poise was perfect. However, at times, 
 the strength of his personal affections might in 
 cline him to overpraise the work of a friend, a 
 aense of equity, stealing out in some critical line 
 or phrase, was certain to render the verdict true 
 on the whole. 
 
 The honors which bore witness to the appre 
 ciation of George Ripley s extraordinary capac 
 ity, the general recognition of his literary merit, 
 the high place assigned to him as a critic of 
 
284 GEORVP; RIP LET. 
 
 books, the public and private admission of his 
 authority in the realm of letters, did not in the 
 least degree impair his conscientiousness, or di 
 minish the carefulness of his work. No obscure 
 man toiling for fame labored harder than he did 
 to meet every condition of excellence. His pa 
 tience was inexhaustible; his persistency was 
 prodigious. He would sit in his chair all day 
 long, reading and writing, unconscious of fa 
 tigue, insensible to annoyance, heedless even of 
 interruption, never complaining of over-pressure, 
 piercing the heart of a volume with a glance, 
 and throwing off page after page of manuscript 
 with an ease of touch which betokened the 
 trained mind as well as the practiced hand. 
 To report the literary achievement of the last 
 ten years of his life would be impossible. The 
 columns of " The Tribune " bear witness to an 
 amazing variety of toil, all executed with fidel 
 ity, much of it with distinguished power, some 
 of it with rare elegance and grace of execution. 
 The range of topics embraces the extremes of 
 mental productiveness from the speculations of 
 philosophy to creations of fancy. Within this 
 period come the remarkable papers on Voltaire, 
 Rousseau, Goethe, Carlyle, Bryant, which at 
 the time they appeared were thought marvels of 
 literary performance. Some of his most acute 
 judgments of opinions and men are found in 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 285 
 
 these fugitive notices ; some of his most pene 
 trating glances into the unrevealed tendencies 
 of thought. The review of Bascom s " Com 
 parative Psychology " is a luminous essay on 
 the distinctions of thought which separate the 
 schools of mental science from each other ; the 
 review of Arnold s " Literature and Dogma " 
 is a good example of the resolution with which 
 the truth is insisted on, in spite of the literary 
 grace that conceals and the ingenious specula 
 tion that confuses it. In no instance is judg 
 ment perverted. His antipathy to Joaquin Mil 
 ler (to cite a strong example) does not pre 
 vent him from giving Miller credit for " bold 
 ness of conception, vividness of description, and 
 freshness and force of utterance." 
 
 The characteristics of Mr. Ripley s literary 
 method may easily be described. The feature 
 of his work which stands out conspicuously is 
 faithfulness of conception and execution. Be 
 fore dealing with any matter of importance he 
 made careful preparation. Among his papers 
 Are sketches and studies for his review of Pro 
 fessor Bascorn s book, for example. A vast 
 deal of thought was bestowed on the chapter 
 in the " Memorial History of Boston ; " manj 
 scraps of paper, containing hints, suggestions, 
 names of prominent thinkers, titles of books, 
 which formed links in the chain of philosoph- 
 
286 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 ical development. In mastering the system of 
 Hartmann, nothing would do but a study of the 
 author in the original German. The review 
 of Professor Bowen s volume had beneath it a 
 close personal acquaintance with the systems 
 there described. The estimates of Voltaire, 
 Rousseau, Lessing, Goethe, Huxley, Spencer, 
 to mention no more, were the result of wide 
 reading, patient thought, and large consider 
 ation of historic mental conditions. His short 
 est notices usually contain some intimation of 
 knowledge acquired in independent investiga 
 tions. A distinguished orator, being asked how 
 he avoided in public the use of slang phrases, 
 replied, " By always avoiding the use of them 
 in private intercourse." On no easier terms can 
 purity of speech be preserved. 
 
 The competency of Mr. Ripley s literary 
 judgments has often been remarked on. He 
 did not wait till others had spoken, and then 
 venture an opinion. He spoke at once, and he 
 Bpoke with confidence, as one who had good 
 reason for what he said. Whether the book in 
 question was the " Scarlet Letter," the " Ori 
 gin of Species," or the " Light of Asia," the 
 verdict was equally prompt and decided. There 
 was no dogmatism, no boasting, no claim to spe 
 cial insight, no affectation of patronage ; simply 
 a quiet recognition of talent and an appreciar 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 287 
 
 tion of its value in the world of letters. That 
 his judgments were generally confirmed by spe 
 cialists is an evidence of their intrinsic worth ; 
 that they were usually ratified by the public 
 testifies to his knowledge of the public taste. 
 
 The literary unprejudiced spirit of his criti 
 cisms appears in his treatment, so generous, 
 yet so nicely balanced, of such totally dissimi 
 lar men as George H. Lewes and Herbert Spen 
 cer, the former of whom he distrusted, while in 
 the latter he had confidence. The criticism on 
 Judge Tourgee s novel, " A Fool s Errand," is 
 a remarkable instance of equitable judgment 
 on the part of one whose anti-slavery feelings 
 were not ardent, and whose political sympa 
 thies, though clear, were not tinctured by party 
 fanaticism. His agreement or disagreement 
 with the author under review was felt to have 
 no connection with the verdict of the critic. 
 
 It has been said again and again, in fact it 
 has become the fashion to say, that George Rip- 
 ley belonged to the class of " genial " critics, 
 who prophesy smooth things, who seldom notice 
 what they cannot praise, who pick out of books 
 the passages they can commend, and encourage 
 where they should condemn. They who say 
 this cannot be thinking of the frequent in 
 stances in which he exposed literary preten 
 won, or of the severity of his treatment when 
 
288 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 ever shallowness or charlatanism tried to get 
 access to the public ear. A survey of his work 
 during a period of thirty years leaves no im 
 pression of such literary " good-nature " as he 
 has been charged with. The careful reader 
 will not fail to notice the qualification which 
 is introduced into his most eulogistic articles, 
 sometimes in a paragraph, sometimes in a line, 
 sometimes in a guarded expression. Even his 
 friends, who could not doubt his private affec 
 tion, have occasionally been surprised at the 
 chariness of his admiration for their most ex 
 cellent performance ; supposing that he would 
 share their enthusiastic sentiments towards 
 their achievement, or that, if he lacked the dis 
 cernment, he would, at all events, be restrained 
 by personal attachment from making the news 
 paper a confidant of his indifference. 
 
 For the rest, his appreciation of excellence, 
 his desire to encourage excellence wherever 
 found, his sense of the importance of calling 
 forth the intellectual stores of the people, his 
 confidence in the medicinal qualities of praise, 
 his sympathy with struggling talent, his natural 
 hopefulness, and his steady allowance for imper 
 fection in all human workmanship abundantly 
 explain the so-called " geniality " of his literary 
 temper. He was afraid of chilling the buds 
 of genius. He believed in sunshine, in warm. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 289 
 
 persuasive, enticing air, in gentle breezes, in 
 gracious showers of rain, in balmy seasons ; 
 well knowing how easily ambition is disheart 
 ened. Many an author whose place in the 
 world of letters is secure looks back gratefully 
 to his helping counsel, ascribing to him the 
 strong impulse which was needed to overcome 
 the diffidence of youth ; and many an author, 
 whose diffidence required pruning in order that 
 the fine fruit of talent might appear, is grate 
 ful to him for kind suggestion thrown in at the 
 decisive moment. Both praise and blame were 
 felt to be judicious as well as benignant. The 
 judiciousness tempered the benignity; but the 
 benignity furnished the motive for the judi 
 ciousness. 
 
 His modesty was as remarkable as his ca 
 pacity. A young friend, ambitious and indus 
 trious, having in the dedication of his first book 
 spoken of him as " the Nestor of The Trib 
 une, " and called him " the Father of Literary 
 Criticism in the American Press," received from 
 him the following note : 
 
 OFFICE OF THE AMERICAN CYCLOPAEDIA, 
 NEW YORK, May 20, 1875. 
 
 MY DEAR W , I have no objection what 
 ever to your connecting my name with yours in your 
 forthcoming volume, if it will be any pleasure to you 
 >r any service to your book ; on the contrary, youi 
 19 
 
290 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 friendly recognition is very agreeable to me. But I 
 must unequivocally, decidedly, peremptorily and if 
 there is any other longer and stronger dictionary 
 word, please pick it out protest against the extrav 
 agant and untenable form in which you have worded 
 ::. Though an old soldier, I am no Nestor; though 
 of the masculine gender, no father of American lit 
 erary criticism, nor of anything, or anybody elsa. 
 When I have the pleasure of seeing you again, I will 
 enlighten your youthful mind on the history of Amer 
 ican criticism, and you will hide your head in re 
 morse. At present think of Bryant. Terplanck. Cogs 
 well, Henry, Godwin, Greeley, Raymond, in New 
 York ; Dana, Channing, Tudor, Willard. Sparks, Ev 
 erett, Palfrey, Willard Phillips, in Boston. all of 
 whom were distinguished reviewers and critics before 
 my name was ever heard of, except as " a Socinian 
 minister, who left his pulpit in order to reform the 
 world by cultivating onions " (Carlyle). 
 
 As I have corrected and curtailed the inscription, 
 it IB modest and inoffensive, and " if it does no good 
 will not do any harm." 
 
 If you have any account of conversations with the 
 present victim. I should be glad to see the report, and 
 meantime, my good old trapper, 
 
 I am yours ever, G. R. 
 
 It is unnecessary to say that the inscription 
 was not printed as designed, and yet it waa true 
 in the main. George Ripley was the " father 
 of literary criticism in the American preae, 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 291 
 
 though not, of course, in America. The Amer 
 ican press was not fairly in existence in the 
 time of Sparks, Everett, Palfrey, and others 
 named in the above letter. There were local 
 papers, of wider or narrower influence, and they 
 contained, incidentally, valuable literary criti 
 cism. But the empire of a few great journals 
 an empire built upon the basis of cheap post 
 age, and made possible by the accumulation of 
 talent and the expenditure of money was es 
 tablished later. "The Tribune" is barely forty 
 years old ; and, previous to its birth, criticism 
 of the higher order was confined to magazines 
 like " The North American Review " (quarter 
 ly), " The Christian Examiner " (bi-monthly), 
 " The Literary Messenger," Arthur s " Home 
 Gazette," and two or three others of limited 
 circulation. The work of Mr. Ripley was nat- 
 arally less ponderously elaborate than the heav 
 ier periodicals required ; it was a combination 
 of the scholarly and the popular as yet unat- 
 tempted : precisely there lay its originality, and 
 original in a very true sense it undoubtedly was. 
 Others Bryant, Raymond, Greeley did ad 
 mirable service by the way, but the greater por 
 tion of their strength was devoted to political 
 discussion. George Ripley gave all his time 
 and all his energy to literary criticism, spend- 
 kig on it, too, the full resources of a richly fui> 
 
292 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 nished mind, and infusing into it the spirit of a 
 broad and noble training. 
 
 His intellectual temperament aided him in 
 his task. The absence of passion was a great 
 advantage. The lack of ardent partisan feeling 
 made possible the calm, clear, judicial temper 
 BO necessary to the critic. The want of what 
 may be called the " artistic constitution," which 
 delights in music, painting, sculpture, architect 
 ure, did something to insure the equability of 
 his poise. His mental force was not wasted by 
 emotion or attenuated by distraction. He was 
 no dreamer, no visionary, no enthusiast, no 
 creature of imagination or fancy. He was, 
 through and through, a critic, gentle but firm, 
 intelligent, exact, holding the interests of truth 
 paramount to all others, always hoping that the 
 interests of truth might be served by the effort 
 of careful writers. 
 
 His extreme conscientiousness, amounting to 
 fastidiousness, his jealousy of the movement of 
 his own mind, his absence of personal ambition, 
 his appreciation of intellectual difficulties and 
 individual aberrations, his lack of enjoyment in 
 the creative process, and his habit of austere 
 eelf-recollection, will help to explain his back 
 wardness in authorship. Not often are author 
 and critic united in the same person. The one 
 art requires different faculties from the other , 
 %t all events, a different direction of the facul 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 293 
 
 ties. The author s impulse is outward, away 
 from the centre, towards a waiting, expectant 
 public, desiring to be instructed or entertained. 
 The critic s bent is inward, back to the centre, 
 away from the public, who are not supposed to 
 be interested in his performance. His business 
 is to make distinctions, to analyze, not to 
 construct, and in doing this he must come 
 back continually to standards of judgment which 
 exist in his own mind. 
 
 That George Ripley was capable of sustain 
 ing himself in a long flight was proved by the 
 letters to Andrews Norton, which, together, 
 make a respectable volume, and which might 
 easily have been extended without change of 
 method. The training of Mr. Ripley was in 
 the school of compression. As a preacher, his 
 art consisted in a due proportion of material to 
 space ; in the omission of details and the pres 
 entation of results ; in a skillful process of sum 
 marizing, length being out of the question, and 
 expansion forbidden by the first conditions of 
 homiletics. As a journalist, he was held to the 
 same rigid rules. The habit of saying all that 
 was necessary in two or three columns compelled 
 him to select salient points, to employ the lan 
 guage of suggestion in preference to the lan 
 guage of description, to bring thoughts to & 
 head, to pass quickly from one matter to an 
 other, to dwell on no subject till it became tire- 
 
294 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 some, and to avoid prolixity as the unpardou* 
 able sin. By the practice of years this habit 
 became imperative. To break through it was 
 all but impossible. At all events, the temp 
 tation to break through it lost its charm, and 
 the idea of authorship was put aside. Force 
 of genius might burst the limits of such re 
 strictions ; love of money or of fame might dis 
 regard them ; but where genius is quiescent, 
 and the love of money moderate, and the pas 
 sion for fame cold, the law of repression is im 
 perious, and the mind finds absolute content in 
 the work of reporting the conclusions of more 
 impulsive intellects. How important is the ser 
 vice rendered by minds thus constituted few can 
 appreciate. If faithful to their calling, they 
 may raise the entire level of literary perform 
 ance ; they will make good work, and only good 
 work, possible ; they will put carelessness to 
 shame. This was the crowning achievement of 
 George Ripley, and this quality in his work 
 was appreciated by fine minds, abroad as well 
 as at home. Professor Tyndall, for instance, 
 through his friend E. L. Youmans, in 1875, sent j 
 his " special regards " to Dr. Ripley, saying, < 
 " If I publish another edition of the Address/ 
 I should almost like to preface it with his arti 
 cle on Martineau. He writes, as he has ever 
 written, with the grasp of a philosopher and the 
 good taste of a gentleman." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 * 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY inherited a robust constitu 
 tion. His brother Franklin lived to be over 
 ee ven ty. His sister Marianne reached about 
 the same age. George, younger than either, 
 lived longer. His way of life, though labori 
 ous, was even, and, with the exception of a few 
 years, calm. His admirable temper threw off 
 the enemies of health, and reduced the perils of 
 mental and moral friction to their suiallest di 
 mensions. His habits were simple to the verge 
 of abstemiousness. Without being ascetic in 
 any respect, he had learned how many good 
 things he could do without, and be no worse for 
 the abstinence. His routine of work was regu 
 lar ; he was not disabled by dyspepsia, languor, 
 headache, or heartache ; he was not distracted 
 by the vain wish to be somewhere else, or to 
 be otherwise employed. To the wear and tear 
 of toil he was, of course, exposed ; but the wear 
 and tear of toil, when unaided by other cor 
 roding causes, seldom fret life away. He was 
 * severe worker, not counting hours, or regard 
 
296 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Ing seasons, or taking into account personal 
 convenience ; but as he never neglected the 
 rules of health, he did not suffer from excessive 
 application. He enjoyed his sleep and ate his 
 dinner without fear. In his early life he was 
 much in the air, took long walks, reveled in 
 natural influences. At Brook Farm his exist 
 ence was not allowed to be sedentary. On his 
 removal to New York the necessity of travers 
 ing considerable distances between his residence 
 and his office supplied the amount of exercise 
 he required. He never rode when he could 
 walk. Driving was no recreation to him. His 
 satisfactions were mental. In his later years 
 he became portly, though none too much so for 
 his appearance or comfort, and not at all to the 
 diminution of his power of work, which con 
 tinued unabated. He would sit all day at his 
 table, reading and writing, his industry never 
 flagging, his spirits never drooping, his judg 
 ment never clouded ; glad to see the face of a 
 friend, and overjoyed at the pleasant humor of 
 his young wife, but contented if left alone, 
 finding the necessary sources of vitality in his 
 own healthy nature. His faculties, undisturbed 
 by the moods which render fitful the activities 
 of nervous organizations, played with absolute 
 smoothness, let the weather be what it might 
 be. A constitutional hilarity preserved him 
 
THE END. 297 
 
 from despondency, and so long as his health re 
 mained essentially unimpaired his intellectual 
 activity went on with the evenness of mech 
 anism. 
 
 His eye was fastened on one weak spot. He 
 dreaded taking cold. His influenzas were stub 
 born and painful. He often intimated that the 
 source of danger was in his chest, and his 
 knowledge of physiology kept that danger ever 
 before him. Possibly, his precautions were ex 
 cessive. During the last winter preceding his 
 decease he did not leave the house, but sat from 
 morning till night at his desk, without exercise, 
 or the bracing tonic of the outer air. The 
 world came to him in the persons of friends and 
 in the breezy presence of his wife, who kept 
 him informed of the goings-on of the social 
 world. For years it had been his custom to 
 absent himself from the Tribune Office, and to 
 save time by having books sent to him, thus 
 increasing his sedentary habit. Still his health 
 did not suffer apparently from the confinement, 
 though occasionally a premonitory symptom 
 kept him in mind of his infirmity. In the win 
 ter of 1879-80 painful symptoms alarmed him ; 
 but it was not till the spring was far advanced 
 that the final attack was made. No care or skill 
 availed then to beat it off. It soon became evi 
 dent that he must succumb to the enemy. Tlia 
 
298 GEORGE RIPLET. 
 
 last " opinion " sent to the Harpers bears the 
 date June 21, 1880, the subject was a book 
 entitled "The Fierce Spirit of Liberty," and 
 the latter half of it was written by Mrs. Ripley. 
 The last printed review, that of Horace Bush- 
 nell s Biography, bears date June 18th. That 
 this work was done with painful effort is prob 
 able from the circumstance that the last article 
 preserved in the scrap-book, where, as a rule, 
 his papers were kept, was printed June 5th. 
 It is singular that the subject of the notice was 
 a volume called " New England Bygones." 
 The genial spirit of the man enjoyed the theme, 
 for he himself was of New England stock ; the 
 New England temper animated him ; even the 
 New England dishes suited his palate ; his 
 memory loved to haunt the scenes of Thanks 
 giving ; he was proud of the New England tra 
 ditions ; something of New England austerity 
 clung to his morals ; the New England " en 
 thusiasm for humanity " was part of his consti 
 tution ; his religion preserved the New England 
 sobriety and earnestness, though the theological 
 intensity was lost. He could feel when lie 
 could no longer perceive. The grace of resigna 
 tion was born in him, and when the time came 
 that he must stop doing and practice patience 
 lie was ready. 
 
 His final illness was protracted and painful. 
 
THIS END. 299 
 
 An incessant restlessness possessed him ; dis 
 tress for breath rendered night and day misera 
 ble. No medical skill, no loving devotion, gave 
 relief. In the moments when suffering permit 
 ted he was fully himself ; affectionate, loyal to 
 the best faith of his earlier time, glad to see his 
 friends, more than glad to see those who re 
 vived in him the recollection of his heroic days. 
 The nature of his disease forbade his saying 
 .nuch ; but what he did say out of a clear mind 
 was quite worthy of himself. After he aban 
 doned the religious beliefs of his youth he never 
 returned to them, never deplored their absence, 
 though a copy of the hymns of Dr. Watts lay on 
 his study table for use. He loved life, but had 
 no dread of death. He feared pain, but knew 
 how to bear it. He clung to his friends, and his 
 friends did not forsake him. He depended on 
 the care of his wife, and it was lavished on him 
 to the last. In his closing hours he called for 
 no other support from without. He died on the 
 4th of July, 1880. The news of his death 
 reached many before the news of his sickness, 
 for his daily existence had long been unevent 
 ful, and only those nearest to him were at all 
 aware of his condition. The distress incidental 
 to a recumbent position made his bed unwel 
 come. Even when mortally ill he preferred a 
 sitting posture ; and this conveyed an idea that 
 
300 GEORGE RIFLE Y. 
 
 he was stronger than he really was. He died 
 in his writing-room, in his chair, at his post 
 of duty to the very end. 
 
 Though his position in the world of litera 
 ture had long been acknowledged, his decease 
 brought it freshly to men s minds. From one 
 end of the country to the other the tributes to 
 his enlightened capacity, to his distinguished 
 knowledge, to his eminent skill as a discerner 
 of thoughts, came in. Editors, writers of every 
 class, critics of diverse schools, confessed his 
 power, and celebrated the service he had ren 
 dered to American literature. There was no 
 dissentient voice. His was felt to be a general 
 loss. In the absence of his own pastor (the son 
 of a cordial friend of his youth) a comparative 
 stranger spoke the last words at his funeral, 
 making amends for lack of intimacy by warmth 
 of expression ; thus doing justice to one aspect 
 of him which was little understood, the hearty 
 human sympathy there was in him. 
 
 A great concourse of people attended the ob 
 sequies. Distinguished men, divines, critics, 
 scholars, editors, architects, scientists, journal 
 ists, publicists, men of affairs, artists, were in 
 the assembly. The pall-bearers were the Pres 
 ident of Columbia College; the Editor of " Har 
 per s Weekly ; " the representative of the great 
 publishing house he had served so many years 
 
TEE END. 301 
 
 an Italian professor and man of letters ; the 
 Editor of " The Popular Science Monthly ; " 
 the Editor of " The New York Observer ; " a 
 distinguished college professor ; an eminent Ger 
 man lawyer ; a popular poet ; and the Editor of 
 " The Tribune," whose cordial, faithful friend 
 he had ever been. These nobly represented the 
 many-sided sympathies and universal relations 
 of the man. They were at once personal inti 
 mates, professional allies, and intellectual neigh 
 bors ; uniting love for the individual with admi 
 ration for the writer. If George Bancroft and 
 Parke Godwin had been present, not as distin 
 guished men of letters, but as old comrades, 
 the former a close temporal and spiritual friend, 
 the latter a brother in the early projects for 
 an associated humanity, the representation 
 would have been perfect : a Unitarian minister 
 officiating, organized humanity paying its trib 
 ute, the broad spirit of modern literature offer 
 ing its praise, private affection revealing its 
 sense of bereavement. He was buried at Wood- 
 lawn Cemetery, in New York, where a granite 
 monument marks his resting place. 
 
 Rev. William Henry Channing, of London, 
 an old comrade and intimate friend of George 
 Ripley, would have prepared for this memoir a 
 full report of his life and a judgment of his 
 character, had pressing engagements permitted. 
 
302 GEORGE RIFLE 
 
 Circumstances forbade his doing more than 
 write a regretful letter, an extract wherefrom 
 will indicate the spirit in which the tribute 
 would have been offered. It is hardly neces 
 sary to add that all who knew well the subject 
 of this biography will render the same testi 
 mony to a man they loved as cordially as they 
 admired him. 
 
 CAMPDEN HOUSE ROAD, KENSINGTON, LONDON, 
 
 Monday, April 7, 1882. 
 
 Your disappointment cannot at all equal mine, at 
 my inability to send the promised sketch of our hon 
 ored compeer, George Ripley. But the ever-widen 
 ing claims of reform movements, committees, corre 
 spondence, etc., etc., have prevented during the whole 
 season ; and when, at last, a period of leisure came, 
 my health again broke down, compelling rest. 
 
 The more the subject has been thought over, and 
 long-buried memories of our dear friend reappear, 
 the wider and richer the theme opens. And it 
 would need many pages to present the least ade 
 quate portraits of George Ripley as a Christian min 
 ister, a scholar, an expounder of philosophy, a so 
 cial reorganizer, a literary critic, an encyclopaedist, 
 a friend, and a man. To me, in reviewing his di 
 versified, yet consistent, progressive, and ascending 
 career, he takes a front rank among the many leaders 
 of thought whom it has been my rare privilege to 
 know, in our own republic and in Europe. 
 
 Especially would it gratify me to bear my testi- 
 
THE END. 30$ 
 
 mony to the generous and quite heroic spirit, where 
 by he and his great-souled wife were impelled to 
 organize Brook Farm ; and to the wise sagacity, ge 
 nial good-heartedness, friendly sympathy, patience, 
 persistency, and ideal hopefulness with which they 
 energetically helped to carry out that romantic enter 
 prise to the end. They consulted with me from first 
 to last, and opened their confidence as they did to 
 very few ; for they knew how warmly and uncompro 
 misingly my conscience, judgment, enthusiastic antic 
 ipations of a purer, freer, more beautifully ordered, 
 and deeply religious form of society, responded to 
 their own. For years my reiterated and urgent en 
 treaty was that he should write out his " Record " of 
 that brave experiment, but he constantly refused. 
 And to my last appeal, made during an interview, 
 in the summer of 1880, our final meeting here be 
 low, in answer to the question, " When will you tell 
 that story, as you alone can tell it ? " he replied, with 
 eyes twinkling merrily and his rotund form shaking 
 with laughter, "Whenever I reach my years of in 
 discretion ! " And at the close of our prolonged talk 
 he looked at me affectionately, and said, " But for 
 your uncle William s encouragement I never should 
 have undertaken Brook Farm ; and but for your un 
 wavering good-cheer I never should have carried on 
 the attempt so long." 
 
 It is not claimed that George Ripley was a 
 man of genius, the peer of Irving, Prescott, 
 Motley, Bancroft, Bryant, Emerson, Channing, 
 
804 GEORGE RIP LEY. 
 
 or any of the men who have made the age illus 
 trious at home or abroad. It is not claimed 
 that he was a profound scholar, an original 
 thinker, even in his favorite department of phi- 
 losophy, nor yet an accomplished man, in the 
 usual sense of the word. But it is claimed that 
 he possessed the literary spirit in a remarkable 
 degree ; that his mind was singularly calm, 
 even, capacious, and exact ; that he was a man 
 of rare intelligence and master of a pure style 
 of English. It is claimed that he put his whole 
 life into the work of interpreting ideas to men, 
 infusing into letters the earnestness and the 
 sweetness of character. It is claimed that with 
 him literature was a high calling, on a line with 
 the ministry, which he abandoned, or the career 
 of a reformer, which he undertook at Brook 
 Farm. One spirit animated all his performance 
 from beginning to end. The forms of his ac 
 tivity changed ; his hope and purpose continued 
 unfaltering to the last, j. Whether preaching, 
 administering, writing, making a Cyclopaedia, 
 or reviewing books, he had one end in view, 
 the enlightenment and elevation of mankind. 
 
 Sou they s fine lines, applied to Sir William 
 Hamilton in his library, found among George 
 Ripley s papers, in his own handwriting, partly 
 express the man : 
 
THE END. 305 
 
 My days among the dead are past ; 
 
 Around me I behold, 
 Where er these casual eyes are cast, 
 
 The mighty minds of old. 
 My never-failing friends are they 
 With whom I converse day by day. 
 
 My hopes are with the dead ; anon 
 
 My place with them will be, 
 And I with them shall travel on 
 
 Through all futurity ; 
 Yet leaving here a name, I trust, 
 That will not perish in the dust. 
 
 In his old college Commonplace Book, under 
 date December 5, 1825, he wrote an extract 
 and comment as follows: " A morning of ardor 
 and of hope ; a day of clouds and storms ; an 
 evening of gloom closed in by premature dark 
 ness : such is the melancholy sum of what the 
 biography of Men of Letters almost uniformly 
 presents. Is this true ? " 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 THE following letters, which came too late to be in 
 serted in the proper place, are interesting as throw 
 ing light on Mr. Ripley s purposes, and as showing 
 how his scheme was regarded by a sympathetic and 
 singularly discerning mind. Mr. Emerson s attitude 
 towards Brook Farm illustrates well his peculiar 
 genius : 
 
 BOSTON, November 9, 1840. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, Our conversation in Concord 
 was of such a general nature, that I do not feel as if 
 you were in complete possession of the idea of the 
 Association which I wish to see established. Aa 
 we have now a prospect of carrying it into effect, 
 at an early period, I wish to submit the plan more 
 distinctly to your judgment, that you may decide 
 whether it is one that can have the benefit of your 
 aid and cooperation. 
 
 Our objects, as you know, are to insure a more 
 natural union between intellectual and manual labor 
 than now exists ; to combine the thinker and the 
 worker, as far as possible, in the same individual ; to 
 guarantee the highest mental freedom, by providing 
 all with labor, adapted to their tastes and talents, and 
 
308 APPENDIX. 
 
 securing to them the fruits of their industry ; to do 
 away the necessity of menial services, by opening the 
 benefits of education and the profits of labor to all ; 
 and thus to prepare a society of liberal, intelligent, 
 and cultivated persons, whose relations with each 
 other would permit a more simple and wholesome 
 life, than can be led amidst the pressure of our com 
 petitive institutions. 
 
 To accomplish these objects, we propose to take a 
 small tract of land, which, under skillful husbandry, 
 uniting the garden and the farm, will be adequate to 
 the subsistence of the families ; and to connect with 
 this a school or college, in which the most complete, 
 instruction shall be given, from the first rudiments to 
 the highest culture. Our farm would be a place for 
 improving the race of men that lived on it ; thought 
 would preside over the operations of labor, and labor 
 would contribute to the expansion of thought ; we 
 should have industry without drudgery, and true 
 equality without its vulgarity. 
 
 An offer has been made to us of a beautiful estate, 
 on very reasonable terms, on the borders of Newton, 
 West Roxbury, and Dedham. I am very familiar 
 with the premises, having resided on them a part of 
 last summer, and we might search the country in vain 
 for anything more eligible. Our proposal now is for 
 three or four families to take possession on the first 
 of April next, to attend to the cultivation of the farm 
 and the erection of buildings, to prepare for the com- 
 ng of as many more in the autumn, and thus to com 
 mence the institution in the simplest manner, and 
 
APPENDIX. 309 
 
 with the smallest number, with which it can go into 
 operation at all. It would thus be not less than two 
 or three years, before we should be joined by all who 
 mean to be with us ; we should not fall to pieces by 
 our own weight ; we should grow up slowly and 
 Btrong ; and the attractiveness of our experiment 
 would win to us all whose society we should want. 
 
 The step now to be taken at once is the procuring 
 of funds for the necessary capital. According to the 
 present modification of our plan, a much less sum will 
 be required than that spoken of in our discussions 
 at Concord. We thought then $50,000 would be 
 needed ; I find now, after a careful estimate, that 
 $30,000 will purchase the estate and buildings for 
 ten families, and give the required surplus for carry 
 ing on the operations for one year. 
 
 We propose to raise this sum by a subscription to 
 a joint stock company, among the friends of the in 
 stitution, the payment of a fixed interest being guar 
 anteed to the subscribers, and the subscription itself 
 secured by the real estate. No man then will be in 
 danger of losing ; he will receive as fair an interest 
 as he would from any investment, while at the same 
 time he is contributing towards an institution, in 
 which while the true use of money is retained, its 
 abuses are done away. The sum required cannot 
 come from rich capitalists ; their instinct would pro 
 test against such an application of their coins ; it 
 must be obtained from those who sympathize with 
 our ideas, and who are willing to aid their realization 
 with their money, if not by their personal cooper* 
 
810 APPENDIX. 
 
 tion. There are some of this description on whom I 
 think we can rely ; among ourselves we can produce 
 perhaps $10,000 ; the remainder must be subscribed 
 for by those who wish us well, whether they mean to 
 unite with us or not. 
 
 I can imagine no plan which is suited to carry into 
 effect so many divine ideas as this. If wisely exe 
 cuted, it will be a light over this country and this age. 
 If not the sunrise, it will be the morning star. As a 
 practical man, I see clearly that we must have some 
 such arrangement, or all changes less radical will be 
 nugatory. I believe in the divinity of labor ; I wish 
 to " harvest my flesh and blood from the land ; " but 
 to do this, I must either be insulated and work to 
 disadvantage, or avail myself of the services of hire 
 lings, who are not of my order, and whom I can 
 scarce make friends ; for I must have another to 
 drive the plough, which I hold. I cannot empty a 
 cask of lime upon my grass alone. jl wish to see a 
 society of educated friends, working, thinking, and 
 living together, with no strife, except that of each to 
 contribute the most to the benefit of all. 
 I Personally, my tastes and habits would lead me in 
 another direction. I have a passion for being inde 
 pendent of the world, and of every man in it. Thia 
 I could do easily on the estate which is now offered, 
 and which I could rent at a rate, that with my other 
 resources, would place me in a very agreeable condi 
 tion, as far as my personal interests were involved, 
 I should have a city of God, on a small scale of my 
 own; and please God, I should hope one day tc 
 
APPENDIX. 311 
 
 drive my own cart to market and sell greens. But I 
 feel bound to sacrifice this private feeling, in the hope 
 of a great social good. I shall be anxious to hear 
 from you. Your decision will do much towards set 
 tling the question with me, whether the time has 
 come for the fulfillment of a high hope, or whether 
 the work belongs to a future generation. All omeng 
 now are favorable ; a singular union of diverse tal 
 ents is ready for the enterprise ; everything indicates 
 that we ought to arise and build ; and if we let slip 
 this occasion, the unsleeping Nemesis will deprive us 
 of the boon we seek. For myself, I am sure that I 
 can never give so much thought to it again ; my 
 mind must act on other objects, and I shall acquiesce 
 m the course of fate, with grief that so fair a light is 
 put out. A small pittance of the wealth which has 
 been thrown away on ignoble objects, during this wild 
 contest for political supremacy, would lay the corner 
 stone of a house, which would ere long become the 
 desire of nations. / 
 
 I almost forgot to say that our friends, the " Prac 
 tical Christians," insist on making their " Standard," 
 a written document, a prescribed test. Thia 
 cuts them off. Perhaps we are better without them. 
 They are good men ; they have salt, which we 
 needed with our spice ; but we might have proved 
 too liberal, too comprehensive, too much attached to 
 the graces of culture, to suit their ideas. Instead of 
 them, we have the offer of ten or twelve Practical 
 Men," from Mr. S. G. May, who himself is deeply in 
 terested in the proposal, and would like one day to 
 
312 APPENDIX. 
 
 share in its concerns. Pray write me with as much 
 frankness as I have used towards you, and believe me 
 ever your friend and faithful servant, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 P. S. I ought to add, that in the present stage 
 of the enterprise no proposal is considered as binding. 
 We wish only to know what can probably be relied 
 on, provided always, that no pledge will be accepted 
 until the articles of association are agreed on by all 
 parties. 
 
 I recollect you said that if you were sure of com 
 peers of the right stamp you might embark yourself 
 in the adventure : as to this, let me suggest the in 
 quiry, whether our Association should not be com 
 posed of various classes of men ? If we have friends 
 whom we love and who love us, I think we should be 
 content to join with others, with whom our personal 
 sympathy is not strong, but whose general ideas co 
 incide with ours, and whose gifts and abilities would 
 make their services important. For instance, I 
 should like to have a good washerwoman in my par 
 ish admitted into the plot. She is certainly not a 
 Minerva or a Venus ; but we might educate her two 
 children to wisdom and varied accomplishments, who 
 otherwise will be doomed to drudge through life. 
 The same is true of some farmers and mechanics, 
 whom we should like with us. 
 
 BROOK FAKM, December 17, 1841. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I feel so sure of your sympathy 
 in the ideas which our little company are trying to 
 
APPENDIX. 313 
 
 illustrate, that I do not hesitate to bespeak your at 
 tention to our prospects. 
 
 We are now in full operation as a family of work 
 ers, teachers, and students ; we feel the deepest in 
 ward convictions that for us our mode of life is the 
 true one, and no attraction would tempt any one of 
 us to exchange it for that which we have quitted 
 lately. A rare Providence seems to have smiled on 
 us in the materials which have been drawn together 
 on this spot ; and so many powers are at work with 
 us and for us, that I cannot doubt we are destined to 
 succeed in giving visible expression to some of the 
 laws of social life, that as yet have been kept in the 
 background. 
 
 We are all of us here full of joy and hope ; we 
 have overcome great obstacles ; our foundation, I 
 trust, is wisely laid. We seem to have every ele 
 ment of success, except the hindrances that arise 
 from our poverty. Some of our friends have put us 
 in possession of the means of owning the estate we 
 live on ; and our personal resources are sufficient, 
 when available, for the immediate improvements we 
 contemplate. Still, without larger means than are 
 now at our command, we must labor to great disad 
 vantage, and perhaps retard and seriously injure our 
 enterprise. Our farming, in a pecuniary view, has 
 been successful. It has realized ten per cent, net 
 gain on the value of the estate, which I believe is Mr. 
 Phinney s mark ; and our income is somewhat more 
 than our current expenses. But we are called on for 
 Dutlays, for absolutely necessary uccom inodations, 
 
B14 APPENDIX 
 
 which, though conducted with a Spartan economy, 
 exhaust our available funds, and leave us too re 
 stricted for successful operation. 
 
 Our resource, in this case, is to request some of 
 those who have faith in us and in our enterprise, not 
 to endow us, or to portion us, but to invest in our 
 stock such sums as they can temporarily part withj 
 and receive therefor a just equivalent. Our shares 
 are $500 each ; they are guaranteed five per cent, in 
 terest, and may be withdrawn at the pleasure of the 
 subscribers, on giving three months notice. I have 
 no doubt that an investment would be equally safe, if 
 not equally lucrative, as in any joint-stock company 
 in the Commonwealth, besides essentially aiding in 
 the establishment of an institution, which is believed 
 to contain the seeds of future good to men. 
 
 If my confessions should prompt you to seek the 
 ownership of one or more of our shares, I need not 
 say that we should be gratified and greatly forwarded 
 in this the time of our infant struggle and hope ; but 
 if you have any cause to do otherwise, I am sure that 
 you will be no less frank than I have been, and re 
 gard this request as if it had never been made. 
 
 Your young friend Frank Brown is very well and 
 I hope will do well. Ever yours sincerely, 
 
 GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 Mr. Emerson s reply is without date, and is ap 
 parently an unfinished sketch : 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, It is quite time I made an an- 
 iwer to your proposition that I should venture into 
 
APPENDIX. 315 
 
 your new community. The design appears to me 
 noble and generous, proceeding, as I plainly see, 
 from nothing covert, or selfish, or ambitious, but 
 from a manly and expanding heart and mind. So it 
 makes all men its friends and debtors. It becomes 
 a matter of conscience to entertain it in a friendly 
 spirit, and examine what it has for us. 
 
 I have decided not to join it, and yet very slowly 
 and I may almost say with penitence. I am greatly 
 relieved by learning that your coadjutors are now 
 so many that you will no longer attach that impor 
 tance to the defection of individuals which, you hinted 
 in your letter to me, I or others might possess, the 
 painful power I mean of preventing the execution of 
 the plan. 
 
 My feeling is that the community is not good for 
 me, that it has little to offer me, which, with resolu 
 tion I cannot procure for myself ; that it would not 
 be worth my while to make the difficult exchange of 
 my property in Concord for a share in the new house 
 hold. I am in many respects placed as I wish to be, 
 in an agreeable neighborhood, in a town which I have 
 some reason to love, and which has respected my 
 freedom so far that I have reason to hope it will in 
 dulge me further when I demand it. I cannot ac 
 cuse my townsmen or my neighbors of my domestic 
 grievances, only my own sloth and conformity. It 
 seems to me a circuitous and operose way of reliev 
 ing myself to put upon your community the emanci 
 pation which I ought to take on myself. I must a 
 Bume my own vows. 
 
816 APPENDIX. 
 
 The institution of domestic hired service is to in 
 very disagreeable. I should like to come one step 
 nearer to nature than this usage permits. But surely 
 I need not sell my house and remove my family to 
 Newton in order to make the experiment of labor and 
 self help. I am already in the act of trying some 
 domestic and social experiments which would gain 
 nothing. 
 
 I ought to say that I do not put much trust in any 
 arrangements or combinations, only in the spirit 
 which dictates them. Is that benevolent and divine, 
 they will answer their end. Is there any alloy in 
 that, it will certainly appear in the result. 
 
 I have the same answer to make to the proposition 
 of the school. According to my ability and accord 
 ing to your s, you and I do now keep school for all 
 comers, and the energy of our thought and of our will 
 measures our influence. 
 
 I do not think I should gain anything, I, who have 
 little skill to converse with people, by a plan of so 
 many parts, and which I comprehend so slowly and 
 bluntly. 
 
 I almost shudder to make any statement of my ob 
 jections to our ways of living, because I see how 
 slowly I shall mend them. My own health and hab 
 its of living and those of my wife and my mother are 
 not of that robustness that should give any pledge of 
 enterprise and ability in reform. Nor can I insist 
 with any heat on new methods when I am at work 
 m my study on any literary composition. Yet 1 
 think that all I shall solidly do, I must do alone* and 
 
APPENDIX. 317 
 
 I am so ignorant and uncertain in my improvements 
 that I would fain hide my attempts and failures in 
 solitude where they shall perplex none or very few 
 beside myself. The result of our secretest attempts 
 will certainly have as much renown as shall be due 
 to it. 
 
 I do not look on myself as a valuable member to 
 any community which is not either very large or very 
 small and select. I fear that your s would not find 
 me as profitable and pleasant an associate as I should 
 wish to be, and as so important a project seems im 
 peratively to require in all its constituents. 
 
 Mr. Edmund Hosmer, a very intelligent farmer 
 and a very upright man in my neighborhood, to whom 
 I read your letter, admired the spirit of the plan but 
 distrusted all I told him of the details as far as they 
 concerned the farm. 
 
 1. He said, as a general rule nothing was gained 
 by cooperation in a farm, except in those few pieces 
 of work which cannot be done alone, like getting in 
 a load of hay, which takes three men. In every 
 other case, it is better to separate the workmen. His 
 own boys (all good boys) work better separately than 
 with him. 
 
 2. He thought Mr. Ripley should put no depend 
 ence on the results of gentlemen farmers such as Mr. 
 
 P and others who were named. If his (Mr. 
 
 Hosmer s) farm had been managed in the way of 
 
 Mr. P s, it would have put himself and family 
 
 : n the poor-house long ago. If Mr. P s farm 
 
 should be exhibited in an accurate account of debt 
 
318 APPENDIX. 
 
 and credit from his beginning until now, it would 
 probably show a great deficit. Another considera 
 tion : The gentlemen farmers are obliged to conduct 
 their operations by means of a foreman whom they 
 choose because he has skill to make ends meet, and 
 sell the produce without any scrupulous inquiry on 
 the part of the employer as to his methods. That 
 foreman buys cheap and sells dear, in a manner 
 which Mr. Ripley and his coadjutors will not sanc 
 tion. The same thing is true of many farmers, 
 whose praise is in the agricultural reports. If they 
 were honest there would be no brilliant results. And 
 Mr. Hosmer is sure that no large property can ever 
 be made by honest farming. 
 
 3. Mr. Hosmer thinks the equal payment of ten 
 cents per hour to every laborer unjust. One man 
 brings capital to the community and receives his in 
 terest. He has little skill to labor. A farmer also 
 comes who has no capital but can do twice as mucb 
 as Mr. Hosmer in a day. His skill is his capital 
 It would be unjust to pay him no interest on that. 
 
 4. Mr. Hosmer disbelieves that good work wiU 
 continue to be done for the community if the worker- 
 is not directly benefited. His boys receive a cent a 
 basket for the potatoes they bring in, and that makes 
 them work, though they know very well that th 
 whole produce of the farm is for them. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 ALOOTT, A. B., 54, 129 
 Alps, 246, 248. 
 American Literature, 213. 
 Andover Theological Seminary, 18. 
 Arnold, Edwin, 227. 
 Arnold, M., 285. 
 
 " Atlantic Monthly " (Magazine), 
 150, 151. 
 
 BADEN-BADEN, 258, 262. 
 
 Bancroft, George, 212, 262, 282, 301. 
 
 Barrett, Samuel, 41. 
 
 Bartol, G. A., 54. 
 
 Blanc, Louis, 260 
 
 Books vs. Barbarism, 274. 
 
 Boston, Mem. History of, 28L 
 
 Bradford, George P., 127. 
 
 Brisbane, Albert, 175, 176, 181. 
 
 Brook Farm, Antecedents, 109; 
 articles of association, 112; offi 
 cers, 115 ; site, 117 ; theory, 118 ; 
 spirit of, 119-122, 303 ; account of 
 in " Dial," 122 ; 0. A. Brownson s 
 account of, 121 ; teaching at. 127 ; 
 wgrk, 128 ; school, 128 ; numbers, 
 128, 156 ; music, 129 ; visitors, 129 ; 
 applications, 130 ; amusements, 
 149 ; manners, 150 ; literature of, 
 152 ; C. A. Dana s account of, 
 ji53 ; reminiscences of, 154 ; daily 
 life, 155 ; trades, 157 ; finances, 
 157, 183 ; Fourierism, 167, 175 ; 
 causes of failure, 187, 194. 
 
 Brooks, G. T., 97. 
 
 Brown, Solyman, 175. 
 
 Brownson, 0. A., 54, 120, 129. 
 
 Bryant, W. C., 280. 
 
 Biichner s " Man," 230. 
 
 Buckminster, Rev. Mr.. 28, 274. 
 
 Buddha, Gautama, 227. 
 
 SABOT, J. E., 281. 
 7arlyle, T. (quoted), 290. 
 
 Channing, W. E., 13, 28, 81,41, tf 
 
 51, 110, 118, 232, 282, 302. 
 Channing, W. 11., 97 129, 164, 166 
 
 175, 177, 301. 
 Clarke, J. F., 54, 97 
 Codman, J. T., 151. 
 Coolidge, J. I. T., 92. 
 Council, Oecumenical, 264. 
 Cowper, William, 12. 
 Cranch, C. P., 129, 176, 177 
 Criticism in America, 290 
 Curtis, G. W., 176, 177 
 Cyclopaedia, 218-223. 
 
 DANA, C. A., 115, 127, 153, 154, 164 
 
 173, 175, 176, 177, 178. 
 Dewey, Orville, 96. 
 De Wette, 98, 102. 
 " Dial, The," 105, 106, 122, 167. 
 " Disciple, Christian, The," 13, 2? 
 
 28. 
 
 Dorr, Thomas, 10, 19. 
 Dwight, J. S., 53, 97, 127, 177. 
 
 ELLIS, G. E., 56. 
 
 Emerson, R. W., 54, 56, 58, 98, 128 
 
 257, 266, et seq. 
 Emerson, William, 20. 
 Everett, Edward, 9. 
 " Examiner, Christian, The," 94. 
 
 FELTON, C. C., 97. 
 Feuerbach, 229. 
 Fichte, J. G., 96. 
 Florence, 263. 
 
 Fourier, Charles, 167, 174, 18L 
 Francis, Convers, 54. 
 Frothingham, N. L.. 41. 
 Fuller, Margaret, 54, 97, 129. 
 
 GANNETT, E. S., 3, 28, 38, 41. 
 Godwin, Parke, 174., 176 176, 177, 
 
320 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Greeley, Horace, 175, 176, 212, 214, 
 
 275 - 
 Greenfield, 2, 3, 7, 13, 26, 238, 240, 
 
 245, 252. 
 Greenwood, F. W. P., 41 
 
 " HARBINGER, THE," 176, 177, 185, 
 
 195. 
 
 Harpers, 298. 
 
 " Harper s Monthly Magazine," 215. 
 Harvard College, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11. 
 Hawthorne, N., 115, 149, 153. 
 Hedge, F. II., 54, 96, 281. 
 Heine, II. 213. 
 Higginson, T. W.. 176,177. 
 Holmes, 0. W., 280. 
 Homer, Mr. and Mrs., 252, 266 
 Hosmer, G. W., 92. 
 Humboldt Festival, 262. 
 
 INDEPENDENT, THE," 256. 
 Infidelity, latest form of, 98. 
 Institute, National, the, Z i d. 
 
 JEWS at, Rome, 265. 
 Jowett, Benjamin, 259 
 
 KANT, IMMANUEL, 96 
 Kay, A., 194. 
 Kimball, 252, 257. 
 Kirkland, Samuel, 38. 
 
 LEWES, G. H., 287. 
 
 Liberal Christianity in the West, 
 
 252, 254. 
 
 Literature, American, 213. 
 " Literature and Dogma," 285. 
 Livermore, A. A., 96. 
 Locke, John, 13. 
 London, 260. 
 Lowell, Charles, 38, 41. 
 Lowell, J. R., 176, 177. 
 Lunt, W. P., 19. 
 
 MAGAZINE, 291. 
 Mallock.W. H.,227,230. 
 Martineau, James, 95, 110. 
 Milan, 250, 263. 
 Miller, Joaquin, 285. 
 Miscellanies, Philosophical. 97. 
 Mott.M. J.,41. 
 
 NEW YORK, 251, 254. 256, 272. 
 
 Nordhoff, Charles, 130. 
 
 Norton Andrews, 22, 54, 96, 98, 102, 
 
 104, 105. 
 Noyes s "American Socialisms," 152. 
 
 OLD AND NEW" (Magazine), 151 
 egood, Samuel, 97. 
 
 PALFREY, J. G., 41. 
 Palisse, J. M., 194. 
 Parker, Theodore, 3, 63, 66, 66, 100 
 111, 119, 129, 164, 194, 203, 228 
 
 Parkman, John, 3. 
 Peabody, A. P., 96. 
 Peabody, E. P., 55, 167, 233 
 Peirce, John, 41. 
 Penn Club, 278. 
 Phalanstery, the, 189. 
 Phalanx, the, 167, 176. 
 Pickering, John, 30. 
 Pickering, Timothy, 80. 
 Pierpont, John, 41. 
 Pratt, Minot, 115, 164, 178 
 "Present, The," 166. 
 Press American, The, 291. 
 " Putnam s Magazine," 212. 
 
 REBELLION (College), 10, 16. 
 
 " Register, Christian, The," 94, 19? 
 
 Reid, W., 301. 
 
 Ripley, Augusta L., 243, 254, 25E 
 296, 299, 301. 
 
 Ripley, Carmela, 247, 250, 251, 252 
 256 
 
 Ripley, Franklin, 1, 237, 295. 
 
 Ripley, George. Birth, 1 ; school, 6, 
 7 ; college, 8, 9 ; teaching 14, 15, 
 16 ; divinity school, 20,21 ; settle 
 ment, 39 ; marriage, 41 ; personal 
 appearance, 45 ; preaching, 47, 
 53 ; Transcendental club, 55 ; min 
 istry. 61, et seq. ; " Discourses," 
 97 ; Specimens of Foreign Stand 
 ard Literature," 97 ; controversy, 
 100 ; " Dial, The," 105, 106 ; Brook 
 Farm, 108, et. seq.; Brownson s 
 description of, 121 ; idea of Brook 
 Farm, 127, 175 ; occupations 
 there, 127; letters on, 143, 147; 
 " Harbinger, The," 176, 185 ; char 
 acter, 151, 164, 165, 192,236, 292, 
 302 ; faith in association, 193, 272, 
 273 ; sells his library, 195 ; moves 
 to Flatbush, L. I., 195 ; early work 
 on " The Tribune," 195, 200, 202 ; 
 verses, 197 ; after Brook Farm, 199 ; 
 literature, 201; removes to New 
 York, 202 ; literary work, 202, 206, 
 211 ; earnings, 203 ; humanity 
 208 ; literary spirit, 210, 286, 287 ; 
 "Harper s Magazine." 215, 216: 
 Cyclopaedia, 218 ; " Books ana 
 Men," 224 ; New York conven 
 tion, 174 ; the man of letters, 226 
 244, 259, 283 ; religious faith, 227 
 231, 235, 248, 258, 267 276, 298 
 299 ; death of his wife, 239 ; Eu- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 rope, 246, 257, 258 ; kindness, 256 ; 
 activity, 261; philosophy, 276, 
 282 ; LL. D., 277 ; industry, 255, 
 
 Steams, Samuel H., 19. 
 Stetson, C.,41. 
 Stone, T. T.,65. 
 
 261, 272, 284 ; love of truth, 285 ; 
 
 Story, W. W., 176, 177. 
 
 the critic, 287, 292 ; modesty, 289 ; 
 
 Sumner, Charles, 214. 
 
 literary qualities, 285, 286, 288, 
 
 Swedenborg, 119 
 
 292, 296; aims, 294; training, 
 
 Switzerland.. 248. 
 
 293 ; habits, 295, 297 ; illness, 
 
 
 297 ; last work, 298 ; death, 299; 
 
 TAYLOR, BAYARD, 212, 279. 
 
 funeral, 300 ; tributes, 301, 304. 
 
 Thatcher, 28. 
 
 Ripley, Jrom, 2. 
 
 Thayer. A. W., 263. 
 
 Ripley, Marianne, 1, 115, 240, 245, 
 247, 252, 257, 295. 
 
 Tourgee, A. W.,287. 
 Transcendentalism, 48, 54, 55, 84 
 
 Ripley, Sophia W., 110, 127, 128, 
 164, 165, 195, 199, 236-239. 
 
 103. 
 " Tribune, The," 255, 274, 277, 284 
 
 Robinson, John P., 19. 
 
 291. 
 
 Robinson Mrs. (Talvi), 249. 
 
 Trieste, 263- 
 
 " Romance, Blith edale," 153 
 
 Tyndall, John, 294. 
 
 Rome, 264. 
 
 
 Russell, George R., 194. 
 
 UNITARIAKISM, 42. 
 
 Kykman, 176. 
 
 Upham, C. W.,29,30 
 
 SAND, GEORGE, 213. 
 Schelling, 96. 
 
 WALKER, JAMES, 41, 44, 96, 12 
 
 Walsh, Mike, 130 
 
 Schleiermacher, 229. 
 
 War, Franco-Prussian, 272. 
 
 Semler, " Geschichte der Social- 
 
 Ware, Henry, 22, 38. 
 
 ismus," 152. 
 
 Ware, Henry, Jr., 41 
 
 Semmering Pass, 263. 
 
 White, D. A., 30. 
 
 Sensationalism, 98. 
 Smith, Gerrit, 209. 
 
 Whittier, J. G., 176, 177 
 Williams, Roger, 213. 
 
 Socialism, 272, 273. 
 
 
 Spencer, Herbert. 287 
 
 YALE COLLEGE, 6. 
 
 Bpinoza, 98, 102, 104. 
 Spiritualism, 228. 
 
 Youmans, E. L., 294. 
 Young, Alexander, 26, 38, 41 
 
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