"March 5, 1888.—Bronson Alcott dead! I saw him coming from Rochester on the cars. I had been a Catholic missionary for I don't know how many years. We sat together. 'Father Hecker,' said he, 'why can't you make a Catholic of me?' 'Too much rust here,' said I, clapping him on the knee. He got very angry because I said that was the obstacle. I never saw him angry at any other time. He was too proud.
"But he was a great natural man. He was faithful to pure, natural conscience. His virtues came from that. He never had any virtue beyond what a good pagan has. He never aimed at anything more, nor claimed to. He maintained that to be all.
"I don't believe he ever prayed. Whom could he pray to? Was not
Bronson Alcott the greatest of all?"
"Did he believe in God?"
"Not the God that we know. He believed in the Bronson Alcott God. He was his own God."
"You say he was Emerson's master: what do you mean by that?"
"He taught Emerson. He began life as a pedler. The Yankee pedler was
Emerson's master. Whatever principles Emerson had, Alcott gave him.
And Emerson was a good pupil; he was faithful to his master to the
end.
"When did I know him first? Hard to remember. He was the head of Fruitlands, as Ripley was of Brook Farm. They were entirely different men. Diogenes and his tub would have been Alcott's ideal if he had carried it out. But he never carried it out. Ripley's ideal would have been Epictetus. Ripley would have taken with him the good things of this life; Alcott would have rejected them all."
"How did he receive you at Fruitlands?"
"Very kindly, but from mixed and selfish motives. I suspected he wanted me because he thought I would bring money to the community. Lane was entirely unselfish.