“Alcott promised that he would, but he did not, and I think Emerson dissuaded him.  After a time, however, a priest, a church, and a congregation of some six or seven hundred Catholics grew up in Concord, and I was invited to lecture, and I went.  The pastor attended another station that Sunday, and I said the Mass and meant to give a homily by way of sermon.  But as I was going to the altar, all vested for the Mass, two men came into my soul:  one, the man who lived in that village in former years, a blind man, groping about for light, a soul with every problem unsolved; the other a man full of light, with every problem solved, the universe and the reason of his existence known as they actually are.  Well, there were those two men in my soul.  I had to get rid of them, so I preached them of to the people.  Some wept, some laughed, all were deeply moved.  That night came the lecture.  It rained pitchforks and pineapples, but the hall, a large one, was completely filled.  Multitudes of Yankees were there.  Emerson was absent, but Alcott was present.  I had my lecture all cut and dried.  ‘Why I became a Catholic’ was the subject.  But as I was about to begin, up came those two men again, and for the life of me I couldn’t help firing them off at the audience, and with remarkable effect.  Next day I met Emerson in the street and we had a little talk together.  None of those men are comfortable in conversation with an intelligent Catholic.  He avoided my square look, and actually kept turning to avoid my eyes until he had quite turned round!  Such men, confronted with actual, certain convictions are exceedingly uncomfortable.  They feel in subjection to you.  They cannot bear the steadfast glance of a man of certain principles any better than a dog can the look of his master.  Like a dog, they turn away the head and show signs of uneasiness.”

From the memoranda, also, we take this reminiscence of George Ripley, the man whom Father Hecker loved best of all the Transcendental party: 

“January 23, 1885.—­Seeing my perplexity at Brook Farm, George Ripley said, ’Mr. Hecker, do you think we have not got true religion?  If you think so, say so.  If you have views you think true, and which we ought to have, let us hear them.’  I answered, ’No; I haven’t the truth, but I am trying to get it.  If I ever succeed, you will hear from me.  If I don’t, you never will.  I am not going to teach before I am certain myself.  I will not add myself to the list of humbugs.’

“Ripley was a great man; a wonderful man.  But he was a complete failure.  I loved him dearly, and he knew it, and he loved me; I know well he did.  When I came back a Redemptorist from Europe, I went to see him at the Tribune office.  He asked me, ’Can you do all that any Catholic priest can do?’ ‘Yes.’  ’Then I will send for you when I am drawing towards my end.’