Herman Grimm has borne testimony to Emerson's literary power, in his New Essays. When he first saw one of Emerson's books he was greatly attracted to it, as he found that some of its sentences were full of new and vigorous thought. He found there a sense of joy and beauty such as is given by the greatest books. In reading him, he felt as if he had met the simplest and most genuine person, and as if he were listening to that person's conversation. He found himself made captive by thoughts which it seemed as if he were learning for the first time. "He has his faults and his doubtful virtues, and is very likely capricious and capable of flattery. Yet when I again read his sentences, the enchanting breezes of hope and spiritual joy filled my soul anew. The old worn-out machinery of the world was re-created, and I felt as if I had never breathed so pure an atmosphere. I recently heard an American, who had been present at some of Emerson's lectures, say that nothing was more captivating than to listen to this man. I believe it. Nothing will surpass the voice of a man who speaks from the depths of his soul what he considers true.' In a note to the translator of his Life of Goethe, Grimm has also said, "I can indeed say that no author, with whose writings I have lately become acquainted, has had such an influence upon me as Emerson. The manner of writing of this man, whom I hold to be the greatest of all living authors, has revealed to me a new way of expressing thought." If a new way of expressing thought, even more truly has he given a new way of believing and living. This has been hinted at by Professor C. C. Everett, when he says,

His

"We think of no writer who is so typically American as he. Yankee shrewdness is carried into the most profound of mystical utterances. His mind is always sane. Never unbalanced, never running to extremes, he keeps on his even course. If he unites with his practical insight the intuitions of the eastern seer, to Yankee common sense the transcendentalism of Germany, to the homely wisdom of every-day life the inspiration of genius, these opposing lines never conflict with one another. If he is mystical, he is never misty. The reason is, that he is so much at home in regions that to many seem far off and dim, that, with no change in modes of

He can

thought and expression, he can describe them as they are. utter the loftiest truth as soon as the humblest. This sanity with which the highest themes are approached by him, has done much to make them seem real and practical to many who would otherwise have regarded them as belonging to the life of dreams."

Emerson has never quite recovered from the nervous shock received at the burning of his house. Yet his health has been almost uniformly good, though suffering sadly from the loss of his memory. The recent years have been quietly spent in the midst of his friends, and in the preparation of his remaining manuscripts for future publication. Gossip has been busy with his name, making him much feebler than he ever has been, and attributing to him a change in his religious convictions. He is yet vigorous, however, and retains something of that youthful look which has always characterized him. His family and his neighbors know nothing whatever of any change in his religious ideas.

He has truly obeyed the voice at eve obeyed at prime, and swerved not from his trust in the soul, his confidence in the progress of man, or his reliance on those spiritual truths which have been the joy of all great souls. His friends have drawn closer to him as the years have gone on, and a greater number with each year have come to see in him a friend to be trusted and a teacher to be followed. Those who once criticised him find new faith in him as a poet, thinker, and critic. What once seemed faults are forgotten in an admiring recognition of his genius. The voice at eve is the voice of a pure and lofty soul, that will be heard more and more gladly through the coming years, as the music of his rich thought floats down the ages that are to follow.

XIV.

THE MAN AND THE LIFE.

MERSON is eminently domestic in his tastes, loving plain, simple things, and has lived in the most quiet, modest manner possible. His essay on Domestic Life indicates the high esteem in which he holds the home, the regard he has for children, and the culture he would have grow out of the home-life. The home, he thinks, should be for plain living and high thinking; and the house should in its economy bear witness that human culture is the end to which it is built and garnished. Alcott has given the following account of his domestic tastes and habits:

"All men love the country who love mankind with a wholesome love, and have poetry and company in them. Our essayist makes good this preference. If city bred, he has been for the best part of his life a villager and countryman. Only a traveler at times professionally, he prefers home-keeping; is a student of the landscape, of mankind, of rugged strength wherever found; liking plain persons, plain ways, plain clothes; prefers earnest people; shuns egotists, publicity; likes solitude, and knows its uses. Courting society as a spectacle not less than as a pleasure, he carries off the spoils. Delighting in the broadest views of men and things, he seeks all accessible displays of both for draping his thoughts and works." 1

He has been most fortunate in all his domestic relations; 2 while the surroundings of his life have been such as he could desire, and they have been helpful to the life he has sought to live. His house has been well adapted to a scholar's wants, both as to its location and

1 In his little book on Emerson. partly reprinted in Concord Days. 2 Emerson has had four children, two sons and two daughters. One son died early, and the other is a much-respected physician in Concord. The older daughter is unmarried, and is the main-stay of the home. The other is married.

construction. About the house is a little farm; and he owns a wood-lot on the west shore of Walden Pond, where Thoreau's hut once stood. His home has been described in these words:

"A roomy barn stands near the house, and behind lies a little farm of nearly a dozen acres. The whole external appearance of the place suggests old-fashioned comfort and hospitality. Within the house the flavor of antiquity is still more noticeable. Old pictures look down from the walls; quaint blue-and-white china holds the simple dinner; old furniture brings to mind the generations of the past. Just at the right, as you enter, is Mr. Emerson's library, a large, square room, plainly furnished, but made pleasant by pictures and sunshine. The homely shelves which line the walls are well filled with books. There is a lack of showy covers or rich bindings, and each volume seems to have soberly grown old in constant service. Mr. Emerson's study is a quiet room up stairs, and there each day he is steadily at work, despite advancing years." 1

When Frederika Bremer called one day at his house, she did not find him at home. Going into his library, she thus describes it: 2

"I went for a moment into Emerson's study, - a large room, in which every thing was simple, orderly, unstudied, comfortable. No refined feeling of beauty has converted the room into a temple, in which stand the forms of the heroes of science and literature. Ornament is banished from the sanctuary of the stoic philosopher; the furniture is comfortable, but of a grave character, merely as implements of usefulness; one large picture only is in the room, but this hangs there with a commanding power; it is a large oilpainting, a copy of Michael Angelo's glorious Parcæ, the goddess of fate."

She says there stood a large table in the center of the room, at which Emerson wrote. On it were a number of papers, but all in perfect order. Some years later M. D. Conway called on Emerson, and describes his visit, giving us a further glimpse of his study.3

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My note of introduction was presented, and my welcome was cordial. Emerson was, apparently, yet young; he was tall, slender, of light complexion; his step was elastic, his manner easy and sim

ple; and his voice at once relieved me of the trembling with which I stood before him, - the first great man I had ever seen. He proposed to take me on a walk; and whilst he was preparing, I had the opportunity of looking about the library. Over the mantel hung an excellent copy of Michael Angelo's Parcæ; on it there were two statuettes of Goethe, of whom also there were engraved copies on the walls. Afterwards Emerson showed me eight or ten portraits of Goethe which he had collected. The next in favor was Dante, of whom he had all the known likenesses, including various photographs of the mask of Dante, made at Ravenna. Besides portraits of Shakspere, Montaigne, and Swedenborg, I remember nothing else on the walls of the library. The book-shelves were well filled with select works; amongst which I was only struck with the many curious Oriental productions, some in Sanscrit. He had, too, many editions in Greek and English, of Plato, which had been carefully read and marked. The furniture of the room was antique and simple. There were, on one side of the room, four considerable shelves, completely occupied by his MSS.; of which there were enough, one might suppose, to have furnished a hundred volumes instead of the seven which he has given to the world, though under perpetual pressure for more from the publishers and the public."

Emerson's house is of the old New-England sort, large, and hospitable in its very construction. A long hall divides it through the middle. By the side of the entry stands a table, over which is a picture of Diana. His book-shelves are very plain, and reach to the ceiling. A fireplace fills one end of the study, and has high brass andirons; while on the antique mantel over it may now be found, among other articles, a small idol from the Nile. On the other end is a bronze lamp of antique pattern, such as is often pictured to represent the light of science. Back of this room is the large parlor, in which visitors are received, and where many a conversational party has been held.

The gate always remains open. The path from the house to the road is lined with tall chestnut-trees. Back of the house is a garden of half an acre, where both Emerson and his wife are wont to labor. She is passionately fond of flowers, and grows them in profusion. Great numbers of roses are in bloom here in June, while there is a bed of hollyhocks of many varieties. A small brook runs across his land, and pours into the river.