American man of letters, was born at Greenfield, Mass., graduated at Hartford in 1823, and in 1826 at the Cambridge Divinity School. From 1828–31 he was a Unitarian minister at Boston, but then resigned his pastorate and went to Europe to study philosophy. On his return he edited, with Dr. Hedge, “Specimens of Foreign Standard Literature” (1838–42), and published “Discourses on the Philosophy of Religion” (1839), which produced an animated controversy with Professor Andrews Norton. Dr. Ripley was one of the initiators of transcendentalism, wrote for the Dial, and in 1844 lost his fortune in the socialistic experiment of Brook Farm. In 1849 he became literary editor of the Tribune, and later “reader” for Harpers. In 1852 he edited a “Handbook of Literature and the Fine Arts” with Mr. Bayard Taylor, and in 1858 “Appleton’s New American Cyclopædia” with Mr. C. A. Dana.

Personal

  He was lacking in the gift of thrilling speech, his convictions did not fall glowing from his lips. His ideas, though clear, cogent, and earnestly put forth, did no execution. In a small room, among personal friends, on his own themes, and following his own impulse, he was eloquent, persuasive, enchanting; but in a meeting-house, on a formal occasion, before a mixed audience, on impersonal subjects, he was unimpassioned, almost cold. He must have his hearer within arm’s length; then his full power was felt. Individually his parishioners were much attached to him. They found him delightful in their homes; a true friend, sympathetic and consolating, more than ready in all cases of need with counsel and assistance. For many years after his ministry ceased, those who had known him as a pastor spoke of him with a depth of affection which nothing but faithful service could justify or explain. A few still live to speak tender words in his memory.

  The more the subject has been thought over, and long-buried memories of our dear friend reappear, the wider and richer the theme opens. And it would need many pages to present the least adequate portraits of George Ripley as a Christian minister, a scholar, an expounder of philosophy, a social reorganizer, a literary critic, an encyclopædist, a friend and a man. To me, in reviewing his diversified yet consistent, progressive and ascending career, he takes a front rank among the many leaders of thought whom it has been my rare privilege to know, in our own republic and in Europe. Especially would it gratify me to bear my testimony to the generous and quite heroic spirit, whereby he and his great souled wife were impelled to organize Brook Farm; and to the wise sagacity, genial good-heartedness, friendly sympathy, patience, persistency, and ideal hopefulness with which they energetically helped to carry out that romantic enterprise to the end.

  Although a scholar of great metaphysical and theological acuteness, and a critic of high rank exerting through the last years of his life a powerful influence as literary editor of the New York Tribune, George Ripley is chiefly remembered as the founder of the Brook Farm Community. Into this idea he threw all of his tremendous zeal and energy. He resigned his pulpit in Boston to devote his whole time to it, and for it he labored with earnestness and self-denial. He was the motive power of the movement.

  Mr. Ripley, who sat at the head of the table, [Brook Farm, 1847] talked supremely well. He was a most striking figure, and every one was so intellectual and superior that one wished, had it been less warm and more fragrant, to stay there. Mr. Ripley, who afterwards became a very dear friend of mine in New York society, often spoke of that glimpse of mine at what had been to him a painful disappointment. He told me how badly some characters “panned out,” how many illusions he lost. “It all went up in smoke,” he said; “and yet the theory seemed most plausible.”

  To the last there was a merry twinkle under the gold-bowed spectacles of Dr. Ripley. For all this I think the Brook-Farm failure left a sore place in his heart. Later reform projects seemed to him, I feel sure, artificial, dishonest—as compared with that first out-put of the seeds of justice and brotherhood; always (for him) there was a rhythmic beat of celestial music in that far away choir of workers and singers—brought together by his agency, bonded by his affectionate serenities—and put upon the road—amidst rural beatitudes—toward the Delectable Mountains and the heights of Beulah…. If an honest pure-thoughted man ever lived ’twas George Ripley; and he carried a beautiful zeal and earnestness into that Brook-Farm undertaking. Much as he enjoyed the genius of Hawthorne, I do not think he had kindly thought of the “Blithedale Romance”: not indeed blind to its extraordinary merit, or counting it an ugly picture—but as one throwing a quasi pagan glamour over a holy undertaking.

  Ripley discharged all the obligations resting on the Brook Farm Phalanx at the time of its dissolution. Although these did not amount to more than one thousand dollars, the last receipt was dated December 22, 1862, and was an acknowledgment of payment, partly in money and partly by a copy of the “Cyclopædia,” received for groceries. No sharper comment is necessary on the deprivations of his first years in New York. It has been felt that nobody gained less from the Brook Farm experiment than did Ripley, and although that surmise must in many ways be true, it cannot, in the largest sense, be accepted by those who have followed carefully the man’s after life. The blows of the hammer may harden the metal into a rail or temper it into a Damascus blade. Both the bludgeon and the blade are useful, but the latter does the finer work. So when courage becomes not defiance but fortitude; when endurance does not allow itself to sink into stoicism at the death of that in which belief has been deepest, there is good certainty that much besides a crushing impact has accrued to the victim of fate.

General

  He wrote from observation, reading, knowledge, not from feeling or fancy. From the first he did this. His training at school and college; his years of experience in an exacting profession; his exercise in reviews and controversies; his familiarity with the best productions of American, English, German and French genius; the severe mental and moral discipline of Brook Farm, all conspired with a remarkable firmness and moderation of temperament, to repress any impulse towards affectation or undue exhilaration of judgment, while his natural buoyancy of spirits, his inborn kindness of heart, his knowledge of intellectual difficulties, and his sympathy with even modest aspirations, saved him from moroseness, and rendered it impossible for him to ply with severity the scourge of criticism…. The competency of Mr. Ripley’s literary judgments has often been remarked on. He did not wait till others had spoken, and then venture an opinion. He spoke at once, and he spoke with confidence, as one who had good reason for what he said. Whether the book in question was the “Scarlet Letter,” the “Origin of Species,” or the “Light of Asia,” the verdict was equally prompt and decided. There was no dogmatism, no boasting, no claim to special insight, no affectation of patronage; simply a quiet recognition of talent and an appreciation of its value in the world of letters. That his judgments were generally confirmed by specialists is an evidence of their intrinsic worth; that they were usually ratified by the public testifies to his knowledge of the public taste…. His intellectual temperament aided him in his task. The absence of passion was a great advantage. The lack of ardent partisan feeling made possible the calm, clear, judicial temper so necessary to the critic. The want of what may be called the “artistic constitution” which delights in music, painting, sculpture, architecture, did something to insure the equability of his poise. His mental force was not wasted by emotion or attenuated by distraction. He was no dreamer, no visionary, no enthusiast, no creature of imagination or fancy. He was, through and through, a critic, gentle but firm, intelligent, exact, holding the interests of truth paramount to all others, always hoping that the interest of truth might be served by the effort of careful writers.

  The wisest, most equitable, and keenly discriminating while generous critic of his nation…. These masterly essays, which have never been surpassed in America, for thoroughness of scholarship, massive argument and loftiness of appeal. And, indeed, it would be difficult, anywhere to find a more lucid exposition of the highest Spiritual Philosophy,—a more profound and penetrating while sympathetic interpretation of Spinoza’s speculative and ethical System,—or a more touchingly reverent, while finely discriminating, analysis of Schleiermacher’s inspiring doctrine, than can be found in these admirably composed “Three Letters of an Alumnus,” each of which in temper, thought, and style, might serve as a model of philosophical discussion, vitalised and sanctified by religious fervour and magnanimous humanity. These “Letters” clearly indicate that, if their writer had felt free in conscience to consecrate his life to scholarship, he would have found no superior and but few peers among his countrymen, as a Philosopher, a Theologian, or a Religious Historian and Critic.

  It seems to me, one can hardly assign to this veteran American critic a high or permanent place in our literary history. He was equipped with a wide knowledge, including philosophy and theology, as well as belles-lettres; contemporary European literature was familiar to him; his tastes and sympathies were, as a rule, both kindly and catholic; he had few hobbies to ride or rancors to exhibit; no trace of embittering personal disappointment appeared in his reviews; and he did not yield, as far as I know, to individual dislikes or petty spites. But his critical work could not be compared, in merit, with that of such an essayist as Mr. Lowell, nor with the unsigned and unrecognized reviews of some less known writers. It lacked grasp; the points Dr. Ripley sought to make must be found by the readers at some cost of time and trouble. His writing was, as a rule, diffuse; terse or remarkable characterizations were lacking; nor did one often find a sentence that went straight to the heart of a book. Dr. Ripley was considered to have an unusual ability as a summarizer of the books he reviewed, but summarizing by paraphrase or by scissors-work, is the easiest kind of criticism. Again, his use of adjectives, was sometimes deemed a merit; but these adjectives were generally used to round out a style perpetually “balanced” or Johnsonian. The writer evidently sought to leave an impression of profundity and nice analytical power; but this impression was produced upon those who delighted in the literary habit of saying that, though B follows A in the alphabet, it undoubtedly precedes C. Dr. Ripley’s reviews, as a rule, could have been divided into parallel columns, each sentence separated into halves by such words as, but, yet, though, notwithstanding.