ield scope for an increased piety and a more enlarged
benevolence. Their infinitely pliable philosophy expanded amiably to
suit the requirements of any and every sect. The Rev. W. H. Furness, of
Philadelphia, though not thoroughly identified with the movement, yet,
in several volumes published at that time, manifested the influence of
Rationalism upon his own studies. But the machinery of his mind, though
exquisite in its details, was too delicate to work up successfully the
heavy material of the German importations. In a review of his 'Life of
Jesus,' by A. P. Peabody, in the _N. A. Review_, after a merited tribute
of praise and respect to the talented author, occurs the following:
'AEsthetic considerations weigh more with him than historical proofs, and
vividness of conception than demonstration. So far is he from needing
facts to verify his theories, that he is ready to reject the best
authenticated facts, if they would not flow necessarily from his _a
priori_ reasoning.' This was severe, too severe in the instance cited;
but the remark is worth preserving, as strikingly characteristic of much
of the _belles-lettres_ writings of the New School of thinkers, as they
were once, and indeed might yet be termed. But impiety was never the
result of Transcendentalism. Its advocates endeavored rather to prove
the adaptability of a generous and catholic spirit of Philosophy to
religion than to subvert it. They never advanced to a love of Strauss
and Feuerbach, and men of the second generation, of whom G.H. Lewes may
be taken as a type, have generally been regarded by them as the
Girondists regarded the Jacobins. Both urge reform, the Vergniaud and
the Robespierre, but the one respects the old landmarks, while the
other, with an unequaled nonchalance, sweeps by, unconscious of them
all, and plants his standard on a foundation as yet unshaken by foot of
man.

The consequences of the Transcendental movement were truly remarkable.
Those latitudes to which habit had accustomed us to look for our
_literati_ became one immense hot-house, in which exotics of the most
powerful fragrance bloomed luxuriantly.[4] As if by miracle, they
assumed hues and adopted habits to which, in their native soil, they
had been strangers. Every small _litterateur_ wore conspicuously his
cunningly entwined wreath. Ladies appeared at 'aesthetic tea-parties,'
crowned with the most delicate of the new importations. Young clergymen
were not complete without a