RHODE ISLAND.
Sail up the Sound—Burning of the Lexington—Providence—Meeting of old friends—Mr. Emerson—Transcendentalism—Westerly.
Seneca, August 1.
In my last I was principally occupied in giving you some account of the picturesque grounds of Green Wood Cemetery. It was on Tuesday afternoon, the thirtieth of June, at five o'clock, that we started in the well-built and beautiful steamer Massachusetts, on our way upon an excursion to Rhode Island. The scenery along the East River and up the Sound presents evidences of higher cultivation, but possesses features of less native picturesque wildness and rural beauty, than that which opens to view along the pathway of the Hudson. The atmosphere we encountered on our way to the steamboat issuing from every street of the great metropolis we had just left, was like the heat from a burning furnace. In delightful contrast with this, was the cool refreshing breeze that played around the bow of our advancing steamer, as we tracked our way up the river and along through the whirlpools and breakers of Hurlgate, a pass far more formidable, and requiring vastly more nautical skill than the famous Straits of Pelorus with Scylla on one side and Charybdis on the other. The evening was beautiful, and our sail up the Sound proved truly delightful. The last rays of twilight were beginning to fade away, and the countless stars studding the arched firmament, to twinkle with unwonted brightness, when we reached the spot where we were told the ill-fated Lexington met her disastrous end. I could not but contrast the scene around me at the moment with the events of that awful night. We were sailing along over the tranquil and starlit bosom of the Sound, with the balmy breath of a summer evening fanning us: with no alarms within,—no raging tempest without. But on that fearful night, and aboard that ill-fated vessel, what a scene was exhibited! What amazement and terror and dismay must have seized every heart when the conflagration broke forth in all its fury! What added exceedingly to the excitement, and no doubt tended greatly to bereave many of all self-possession and presence of mind, was that the fire burst out in the central part of the steamer, cutting off all communication between those occupying the forward and the hinder part of the boat. Thus, in this moment of awful peril, husbands and wives,—parents and children, brothers and sisters were suddenly separated from each other by a wall of fire, and deprived of each other's counsel when most they needed it: and thus they were filled with increased alarm, not only for themselves, but for each other. Alas! this was an hour when no man could help his brother,—when the parent could neither save himself nor his children. If they remained on board the burning vessel, they must be consumed. If they plunged into the roaring waves they would sink into the depths beneath, and find there a watery grave: or if they should escape the fury of the waves by clinging to a bale of cotton, or some floating part of the wreck, the chill winds of winter, and the icy waters that dashed over them, would soon stagnate and freeze to the very fountain the warm current of life. Thus all the elements of nature were armed against them, flame, and flood, and frost, and they could not escape. No imagination can conceive the horror or agony of the scene! I leaned over the side of our steamer, as we passed the spot where this awful scene occurred, and tried to picture to myself some of its outlines. Even the picture which rose before me was too awful to contemplate.
What a lesson that disaster ought to teach us of our entire dependence upon God for safety while travelling by land or by sea! What an admonition ought it to sound in our ears to be always ready for death! We know not the day nor the hour in which the Son of Man cometh! Our death may be as sudden, and as unexpected, as that of any of those on board the Lexington, though it occur in our own dwelling, and in the bosom of our family. If we are truly the Lord's people, and our names are in the Lamb's book of life, it matters little when, or where death meets us: for then the grizly king becomes the friendly porter that opens to us the golden gates of paradise.
The more usual course that passengers now pursue to Providence and Boston is to stop at Stonington, and take the railroad cars from that point. By this means they reach Providence and Boston several hours earlier than they were accustomed to by the old route. But as the steamboat arrives at Stonington long before morning, we were not disposed to leave our quiet berths for the sake of reaching Providence some three or four hours earlier than we otherwise should, and therefore kept on in the old course around Point Judith touching at Newport.
The time that we spent at Providence in the midst of our old friends, I need not tell you, was passed most delightfully. The church where I once preached the reconciling word, the lecture-room where I saw countenances that called up with thrilling emotions the memory of days and scenes that will be fresh in my recollection through all eternity,—the private circle where cordial greetings, and more than Highland welcomes met us, all these and the countless associations they awakened, seemed to throw around us such a circle of enchantment, that, when the time had elapsed which we had designed to spend there, we still lingered from day to day, as though unable to pass that circle. If there be one draught of enjoyment more delicious than another which a Christian minister is permitted to drink this side of heaven, it is, when after years of absence, he returns to visit the flock from whom in the providence of God he was removed, and with whom his labours were once greatly blessed, and finds those for whose salvation he laboured, and whom he was instrumental in introducing into the fold of the Redeemer, "standing fast in the Lord," and exhibiting "the fruits of the Spirit;" or learns that those who are gone, and are numbered with the dead, departed in the triumphs of Christian faith. St. John could say, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth." And St. Paul, "For now we live if ye stand fast in the Lord." The highest zest of the pleasure I enjoyed in this visit to the scene of my former labours, arose from what I saw and heard of the stability, and increased spirituality of a people with whom I hope to sit down one day, in company with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God.
You are familiar with the whole topography of Rhode Island, and therefore I need say nothing of the interblending of rural scenery and retirement, with city embellishment and comfort, which so eminently distinguish not a few of the neat and elegant residences in Providence. There is one feature in the moral character of this city, which distinguishes it from most other New England towns. In almost all New England the great mass of mind is educated, and the people upon all subjects think for themselves. Generally, however, especially in the interior, the descendants of the Puritans, cleave in religious matters to the faith of their forefathers, and are opposed to all change. But in Rhode Island, there has always been a more liberal, and free-thinking spirit on the subject of religion than in any of the other New England states.—It was here that Roger Williams fled when his Puritan brethren would not tolerate him in the Bay state. It was through his influence that a more enlightened feeling in reference to religious toleration was made to pervade the community settling at Providence, than was found at that period in any other New England town. And probably there is no place in our country, where, at this time, a more kind and catholic spirit, or a greater freedom from the influence of narrow, sectarian feeling prevails, than here. This tolerant spirit, however, in some minds, manifests a strong tendency to latitudinarianism. Hence, perhaps, there is no community in the world where a new religious sect would so soon gather intelligent adherents as at Providence, and no where, where more sound and able, and fearless advocates would rise up to defend "the faith once delivered to the saints." I have been led into this train of reflection, from encountering a greater prevalence of the transcendental spirit, at Providence, than I have anywhere before met in our country. This offshoot of German neology, issuing from the same parent stock with Socinianism, finds a congenial soil in a Unitarian community. You are aware that the Rev. Mr. Emerson, formerly a Unitarian minister at Boston, has embraced transcendentalism in all its heights and depths. Whether he be actually deranged, as some suppose, or not, matters very little, since multitudes, and some who desire to be classed among the elite of the land, are ready to gather around him and receive the law of their belief from his mouth. He has recently made a visit to Providence, and developed by means of lectures and conversations, his peculiar views. He is spoken of as a man of genius, and wonderfully attractive. He is a thorough pantheist. He believes that every thing in nature is a part of God—that good men are incarnations of Deity, and that it was in this sense alone, that God is said to be "made flesh" in the person of Jesus Christ. He places Socrates, and Zoroaster and Jesus in the same category, and considers that they differed from each other only in the degree of inspiration which they had. He thinks that the writings of Socrates and Plato, and Zoroaster should be bound up in the same volume with the Bible, and that they are entitled to more confidence, and marked with deeper wisdom than some portions of our present canon of Scripture.
During Mr. Emerson's stay at Providence, having advanced some crude idea, he was referred to a saying of the Saviour, which contradicted his position: when he very deliberately replied, "Jesus was mistaken." On another occasion speaking of the Saviour, he said: "Jesus was a very good man, I wish he had been better: he had no fun, no humour in his character, in this respect he was imperfect." Such are some of the specimens of gross infidelity, which the abettors of transcendentalism in New England, openly put forth. The charm of this transcendental scheme consists partly in the metaphysical mystification, the sentimental namby-pambyism,—the crazed poetic inspiration, with which the masters of this school speak and write. Then there is much to soothe and flatter the pride of the human heart, in the idea which they would have every man take up that he is a pure emanation of Deity,—a bright scintillation from the divine mind, and that all he has to do, is to follow the lofty inspirations of his own mind, and then he will sparkle forth along the track of being, an incarnate God. One very truly remarked in relation to transcendentalism, that it was no new doctrine,—that it was taught as long ago as when man was in the garden of Eden: even then, the father of lies, said to our first ancestors, eat the forbidden fruit, and "ye shall be as gods."
In the midst of abounding iniquity and multiplying error, it behoves the friends of truth to stand on the watch tower and give the people timely warning. I felt greatly refreshed and truly delighted in various interviews with the clergy whom I met in Rhode Island. My mind naturally reverted to the scenes of former days, when I was so pleasantly associated with them, and when we used to meet at the monthly Convocations as a band of brothers, having one heart and one mind, and labouring together for one simple object, the upbuilding of the Saviour's kingdom and the glory of God. Great changes since that period have taken place. Some of these brethren have gone to the north, and some to the south—some to the east, and some to the west; and yet the character of the Rhode Island clergy continues the same. Take them all in all, I know of no set of men more thoroughly evangelical or more truly devoted to the best interests of the Church of Christ; or occupying a more elevated stand for piety and learning and talents, than the clergy of Rhode Island.
I passed a few days at Westerly, and could not but remember with gratitude my first visit to this place some six years ago. As I saw the beautiful church—the neat parsonage house—the respectable congregation, and the multiplied tokens of true piety around me, I could not but say, "What hath God wrought!" Never can I doubt that the power of God is connected with Revivals of religion, while I remember the scenes of Westerly—while so many "fruits of the Spirit" remain, of consistent, devoted, exemplary followers of Christ, brought to a knowledge of the truth in a revival. Because men get up imitations of the work of the Lord, as the magicians did of the miracles of Moses, it does not invalidate the Lord's work any more than those magical attempts did the truth of his miracles.
I have room only to add, if the Lord permits, you will soon hear from me again.