y
called rhetoric with him; but I derived, from conversation with him,
that his discontent with conventionalisms of thought first took this
form of dissatisfaction with the conventional oratory. He thought
there might be taught an art of putting things so that they could not
be gainsaid. But a man must really hold that which he is to state
successfully. He startled me by saying, "I believe that a really
eloquent man, though an atheist, or whatever his opinions, would be
listened to by any educated congregation in Boston." No one, he said,
could discover the charm of Channing's preaching by reading his
sermons; there was the heart that rose up to meet him: here was
something sufficient, and the multitude went off radiant, fed,
satisfied. But Emerson was to teach the new art of eloquence by
example.

In 1823, now twenty years of age, Emerson began his studies in
theology. Though often attending lectures in Harvard Divinity College
he never regularly entered there, but still sat at the feet of
Channing, who took a deep personal interest in him. He was
"approbated" by the Ministers' Association in 1826. His health having
suffered by overwork he passed a winter in the South, and in the
following year preached several Sundays at New Bedford, Mass., where
he found some friends among the Quakers. He also preached for a time
in Concord. In 1829 he was chosen minister of a large congregation in
Boston. A venerable minister gave me an account of a sermon he heard
from Emerson in those days, impressed on his memory by the vitality it
infused in an old theme, and the simplicity with which it was
delivered. The text was, "What is a man profited if he shall gain the
whole world and lose his own soul?" The emphasis was on the word
"own;" and the general theme was, that to every man the great end of
existence was the preservation and culture of his individual mind and
character. Each man must be saved by his own inward redeemer; and the
whole world was for each but a plastic material through which the
individual spirit was to realize itself. Aspiration and thought become
clear and real only by action and life. If knowledge lead not to
action, it passes away, being preserved only on the condition of being
used. "The last thing," said my informant, "that any of us who heard
him would have predicted of the youth, whose quiet simplicity and
piety captivated all, was that he would become the religious
revolutionist of America."

And, ind