The pulpit has no function more essential than an independent criticism of well-meaning people in the light of larger justice and remoter consequences than most popular measures recognize. The truest service is, perhaps, to help correct the blunders and the intolerances of blind good-will and narrow zeal for a good cause; to speak in the interest of an idea where popular or organized impulse threatens to swamp its higher morality in passionate instincts and absolute masterships, to maintain that freedom of private judgment which cannot be outraged, even in the best moral intent, without mischievous reaction on the good cause itself.
In this connection he speaks of temperance, the amelioration of the condition of the "perishing" or "dangerous" classes, the various schemes for benefiting the laboring men, plans for adjusting the relations of labor and capital, arrangements for diffusing the profits of production,—causes which he had at heart, but which should be discussed in view of the principle of individual freedom, which must be upheld at all hazards. He was a close reasoner as well as a warm feeler, and would not allow his sympathies to get the upper hand of his ideas. He hoped for the best; he had faith in the highest; he anticipated the brightest; but he tried to see things as they were. He was a student, not a sentimentalist, and while he was ready to follow the most advanced in the direction of spiritual progress, he was not prepared to take for granted issues that still hung in the balance of debate, or to prejudge questions that had not been answered, and could not be as yet.
Such moderation and patience are not common with reformers, and few are independent enough to confess misgivings which are more familiar to their opponents than to their friends. Candor like this shows a genuine unconsciousness of fear, a sincere love of truth, an earnest postponement of personal tastes, ambitions, and connections to the axioms of universal wisdom and goodness; a loyalty to conviction that is very rare, that never can exist among the indifferent, because they do not care, and which is usually put aside by those who do care as an impediment if not as a snare. In courage of this noble kind, Johnson excelled all men I ever knew, for they who had it, as some did, had not his genius, and were spared the necessity of curbing ardor by so much as their temperament was more passive and their eagerness less importunate. Of course of the lower sort,—the courage to bear pain, loss, the misunderstanding of the vulgar, to face danger, to encounter peril, none who knew him can question his possession. In fact, he did not seem to suffer at all, so jocund was he, so much in the habit of keeping his deprivations from the outside world; even his intimates could but suspect his sorrows of heart.
Samuel Johnson was an extraordinary person to look at. He had large dark eyes; black, straight, long hair; an Oriental complexion, sallow, olive-colored; an impetuous manner; a beaming expression. His voice was rich, deep, musical; his gait eager, rapid, swinging; his style of address glowing; his aspect in public speech that of one inspired. He was fond of natural beauty, of art, literature, music; full of fun, witty, mirthful, social. He was attractive to young people, delightful in conversation, ready to enter into innocent amusements. His eye for scenery was fine and quick, his interest in practical science sincere and hearty, his concern for whatever advanced humanity cordial, and his freshness of spirit increased if anything with years.
XIV.
MY FRIENDS.
It is impossible to mention them all, and to single out a few from a multitude must not be done. I should like to commemorate those who came nearest to me by their earnest work and faithful allegiance, but these cannot be spoken of, and I prefer to enumerate some of those with whom I was less intimate.
Alice and Phœbe Cary came to New York in 1852, and were prominent when I was there; their famous Sunday evenings, which were frequented by the brightest minds and were sought by a large class of people, being then well established. These were altogether informal and gave but little satisfaction to the merely fashionable folks who now and then attended them. The sisters were in striking contrast. Phœbe, the younger, was a jocund, hearty, vivacious, witty, merry young woman, short and round; her older sister, Alice, was taller and more slender, with large, dark eyes; she was meditative, thoughtful, pensive, and rather grave in temperament; but the two were most heartily in sympathy in every opinion and in all their literary and social aims. Horace Greeley, one of their earliest and warmest friends, was a frequent visitor at their house. There I met Robert Dale Owen, Oliver Johnson, Dr. E. H. Chapin, Rev. Charles F. Deems, Justin McCarthy and his wife, Mrs. Mary E. Dodge, Madame Le Vert, and several others.
Among my friends was President Barnard, of Columbia College, the only man I ever knew whose long ear-trumpet was never an annoyance; Ogden N. Rood, the Professor of Physics at Columbia, a man of real genius, whose studies in light and color were a great assistance to artists, himself an artist of no mean order and an ardent student of photography; Charles Joy, Professor of Chemistry, a most active-minded man, who received honors at Goettingen and at Paris, and contributed largely to the scientific journals; a man greatly interested in the union of charitable societies in New York; Robert Carter, then a co-worker in the making of Appleton's Cyclopedia; Bayard Taylor, novelist, poet, translator of Goethe, traveller; Richard Grant White, the Shakesperian scholar; Charles L. Brace, the philanthropist; E. L. Youmans a man fairly tingling with ideas, and peculiarly gifted in making popular, as a lecturer, the most abstruse scientific discoveries. The breadth of my range of acquaintances is illustrated by such men as Roswell D. Hitchcock, of Union Seminary, the learned student, the impressive speaker; Isaac T. Hecker, the founder of the Congregation of the Paulists; Dr. Washburn, the model churchman of "Calvary"; Henry M. Field, editor of the Evangelist, a most warm-hearted man, so large in his sympathies that he could say to Robert G. Ingersoll, "I am glad that I know you, even though some of my brethren look upon you as a monster because of your unbelief," and welcomed as an example of "constructive thought," Dr. Charles A. Briggs' Inaugural Address as Professor of Biblical Theology at Union College; John G. Holland (Timothy Titcomb), a copious author. The Tribune company was most distinguished: There was, first of all, the founder, Horace Greeley, a unique personality, simple, unaffected, earnest, an immense believer in American institutions, a stanch friend of the working-man, and a brave lover of impartial justice; Whitelaw Reid, who was, according to George Ripley, the ablest newspaper manager he ever saw; and Mrs. Lucia Calhoun (afterward Mrs. Runkle), one of the most brilliant contributors to the Tribune. Of George Ripley I may speak more at length, as he was my parishioner and close friend. In my biography of him, written for the "American Men of Letters" series, I spoke of him as a "remarkable" man. One of my critics found fault with the appellation, and said it was not justified by anything in the book, as perhaps it was not, though intellectual vigor, range, and taste like his must be called "remarkable"; such industry is "remarkable"; no common man could have instituted "Brook Farm" and administered it for six or seven years; could have maintained its dignity through ridicule, misunderstanding, and fanaticism; could have cleared off its liabilities; could have turned his face away from it on its failure, with such patience, or in his later age, could have alluded to it so sweetly; no ordinary person could have adopted a new and despised career so bravely as he did. No journalist has raised literature to so high a distinction, or derived such large rewards for that mental labor. He deserves to be called "remarkable," who can do all this or but a part of it, and, all the time, preserve the sunny serenity of his disposition. If the biography failed to present these traits it was, indeed, unsuccessful. Yes, Mr. Ripley was an extraordinary man. It is seldom that one carries such qualities to such a degree of perfection, and it may be worth while to look more closely at his character.