Ripley in his Utopian undertaking. Ralph Waldo Emerson for example was
not of our company. Indeed, he was not of any company. An inspiring
preacher he gained early fame as a pulpit orator in the First Unitarian
Church of Cambridge, Mass., but even the liberal communion of that free
congregation was too close for his independent spirit, and he abandoned
a career of brilliant promise in the ministry, as he said, "for his
soul's peace." _Sui generis_, to be himself he must stand alone,
and alone he stood during the remainder of his life.

A stanza of his poem, "The Problem" doubtless expresses something of his
sentiments with regard to religious affiliation:

"I like a church, I like a cowl,
I love a prophet of the soul,
And on my heart monastic aisles
Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles,
Yet not for all his faith can see
Would I that cowled churchman be."


Of all the visitors coming to Brook Farm, I think Emerson was the most
welcome. He was beloved by everyone from Dr. Ripley, dear friend and
brother clergyman, to Abby Morton's little ones. The messages of cheer
and the words of wisdom he brought were received and treasured with
intelligent appreciation. I have heard it said that Emerson was at his
best when talking in monologue of an evening at the Hive, or in more
formal discourse in the grove on Sunday. He was companionable and
entered into the life of the place with evident enjoyment--happy but not
jovial. He smiled readily and most charmingly, but never laughed. As a
young man his personality was most attractive, serene loving-kindness