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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.07.00*END* + + + + + +This Project Gutenberg Etext Prepared by Tony Adam +anthony-adam@tamu.edu + + + + + +Essays, First Series + +by Ralph Waldo Emerson + + + + +HISTORY. + +There is no great and no small +To the Soul that maketh all: +And where it cometh, all things are +And it cometh everywhere. + +I am owner of the sphere, +Of the seven stars and the solar year, +Of Caesar's hand, and Plato's brain, +Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakspeare's strain. + +I. +HISTORY. + +THERE is one mind common to all individual men. Every +man is an inlet to the same and to all of the same. He +that is once admitted to the right of reason is made a +freeman of the whole estate. What Plato has thought, +he may think; what a saint has felt, he may feel; what +at any time has befallen any man, he can understand. +Who hath access to this universal mind is a party to +all that is or can be done, for this is the only and +sovereign agent. + +Of the works of this mind history is the record. Its +genius is illustrated by the entire series of days. +Man is explicable by nothing less than all his +history. Without hurry, without rest, the human spirit +goes forth from the beginning to embody every faculty, +every thought, every emotion, which belongs to it, in +appropriate events. But the thought is always prior to +the fact; all the facts of history preexist in the +mind as laws. Each law in turn is made by circumstances +predominant, and the limits of nature give power to but +one at a time. A man is the whole encyclopaedia of facts. +The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn, and +Egypt, Greece, Rome, Gaul, Britain, America, lie folded +already in the first man. Epoch after epoch, camp, +kingdom, empire, republic, democracy, are merely the +application of his manifold spirit to the manifold world. + +This human mind wrote history, and this must read it. +The Sphinx must solve her own riddle. If the whole of +history is in one man, it is all to be explained from +individual experience. There is a relation between the +hours of our life and the centuries of time. As the +air I breathe is drawn from the great repositories of +nature, as the light on my book is yielded by a star a +hundred millions of miles distant, as the poise of my +body depends on the equilibrium of centrifugal and +centripetal forces, so the hours should be instructed +by the ages and the ages explained by the hours. Of +the universal mind each individual man is one more +incarnation. All its properties consist in him. Each +new fact in his private experience flashes a light on +what great bodies of men have done, and the crises of +his life refer to national crises. Every revolution +was first a thought in one man's mind, and when the +same thought occurs to another man, it is the key to +that era. Every reform was once a private opinion, and +when it shall be a private opinion again it will solve +the problem of the age. The fact narrated must correspond +to something in me to be credible or intelligible. We, as +we read, must become Greeks, Romans, Turks, priest and +king, martyr and executioner; must fasten these images +to some reality in our secret experience, or we shall +learn nothing rightly. What befell Asdrubal or Caesar +Borgia is as much an illustration of the mind's powers +and depravations as what has befallen us. Each new law +and political movement has meaning for you. Stand before +each of its tablets and say, 'Under this mask did my +Proteus nature hide itself.' This remedies the defect +of our too great nearness to ourselves. This throws our +actions into perspective; and as crabs, goats, scorpions, +the balance and the waterpot lose their meanness when +hung as signs in the zodiac, so I can see my own vices +without heat in the distant persons of Solomon, Alcibiades, +and Catiline. + +It is the universal nature which gives worth to +particular men and things. Human life, as containing +this, is mysterious and inviolable, and we hedge it +round with penalties and laws. All laws derive hence +their ultimate reason; all express more or less +distinctly some command of this supreme, illimitable +essence. Property also holds of the soul, covers great +spiritual facts, and instinctively we at first hold to +it with swords and laws and wide and complex combinations. +The obscure consciousness of this fact is the light of +all our day, the claim of claims; the plea for education, +for justice, for charity; the foundation of friendship +and love and of the heroism and grandeur which belong to +acts of self-reliance. It is remarkable that involuntarily +we always read as superior beings. Universal history, the +poets, the romancers, do not in their stateliest pictures, +--in the sacerdotal, the imperial palaces, in the triumphs +of will or of genius,--anywhere lose our ear, anywhere make +us feel that we intrude, that this is for better men; but +rather is it true that in their grandest strokes we feel +most at home. All that Shakspeare says of the king, yonder +slip of a boy that reads in the corner feels to be true of himself. We sympathize in the great moments of history, in +the great discoveries, the great resistances, the great +prosperities of men;--because there law was enacted, the +sea was searched, the land was found, or the blow was +struck, for us, as we ourselves in that place would have +done or applauded. + +We have the same interest in condition and character. +We honor the rich because they have externally the +freedom, power, and grace which we feel to be proper +to man, proper to us. So all that is said of the wise +man by Stoic or Oriental or modern essayist, describes +to each reader his own idea, describes his unattained +but attainable self. All literature writes the character +of the wise man. Books, monuments, pictures, conversation, +are portraits in which he finds the lineaments he is +forming. The silent and the eloquent praise him and accost +him, and he is stimulated wherever he moves, as by personal allusions. A true aspirant therefore never needs look for +allusions personal and laudatory in discourse. He hears the commendation, not of himself, but, more sweet, of that +character he seeks, in every word that is said concerning character, yea further in every fact and circumstance,--in +the running river and the rustling corn. Praise is looked, +homage tendered, love flows, from mute nature, from the +mountains and the lights of the firmament. + +These hints, dropped as it were from sleep and night, +let us use in broad day. The student is to read +history actively and not passively; to esteem his own +life the text, and books the commentary. Thus +compelled, the Muse of history will utter oracles, as +never to those who do not respect themselves. I have +no expectation that any man will read history aright +who thinks that what was done in a remote age, by men +whose names have resounded far, has any deeper sense +than what he is doing to-day. + +The world exists for the education of each man. There +is no age or state of society or mode of action in +history to which there is not somewhat corresponding +in his life. Every thing tends in a wonderful manner +to abbreviate itself and yield its own virtue to him. +He should see that he can live all history in his own +person. He must sit solidly at home, and not suffer +himself to be bullied by kings or empires, but know +that he is greater than all the geography and all the +government of the world; he must transfer the point of +view from which history is commonly read, from Rome +and Athens and London, to himself, and not deny his +conviction that he is the court, and if England or +Egypt have any thing to say to him he will try the +case; if not, let them for ever be silent. He must +attain and maintain that lofty sight where facts yield +their secret sense, and poetry and annals are alike. +The instinct of the mind, the purpose of nature, +betrays itself in the use we make of the signal +narrations of history. Time dissipates to shining +ether the solid angularity of facts. No anchor, no +cable, no fences avail to keep a fact a fact. +Babylon, Troy, Tyre, Palestine, and even early Rome +are passing already into fiction. The Garden of Eden, +the sun standing still in Gibeon, is poetry +thenceforward to all nations. Who cares what the fact +was, when we have made a constellation of it to hang +in heaven an immortal sign? London and Paris and New +York must go the same way. "What is history," said +Napoleon, "but a fable agreed upon?" This life of ours +is stuck round with Egypt, Greece, Gaul, England, War, +Colonization, Church, Court and Commerce, as with so +many flowers and wild ornaments grave and gay. I will +not make more account of them. I believe in Eternity. +I can find Greece, Asia, Italy, Spain and the Islands, +--the genius and creative principle of each and of all +eras, in my own mind. + +We are always coming up with the emphatic facts of +history in our private experience and verifying them +here. All history becomes subjective; in other words +there is properly no history, only biography. Every +mind must know the whole lesson for itself,--must go +over the whole ground. What it does not see, what it +does not live, it will not know. What the former age +has epitomized into a formula or rule for manipular +convenience, it will lose all the good of verifying +for itself, by means of the wall of that rule. +Somewhere, sometime, it will demand and find +compensation for that loss, by doing the work itself. +Ferguson discovered many things in astronomy which had +long been known. The better for him. + +History must be this or it is nothing. Every law which +the state enacts indicates a fact in human nature; +that is all. We must in ourselves see the necessary +reason of every fact,--see how it could and must be. +So stand before every public and private work; before +an oration of Burke, before a victory of Napoleon, +before a martyrdom of Sir Thomas More, of Sidney, of +Marmaduke Robinson; before a French Reign of Terror, +and a Salem hanging of witches; before a fanatic +Revival and the Animal Magnetism in Paris, or in +Providence. We assume that we under like influence +should be alike affected, and should achieve the like; +and we aim to master intellectually the steps and +reach the same height or the same degradation that +our fellow, our proxy has done. + +All inquiry into antiquity, all curiosity respecting +the Pyramids, the excavated cities, Stonehenge, the +Ohio Circles, Mexico, Memphis,--is the desire to do +away this wild, savage, and preposterous There or Then, +and introduce in its place the Here and the Now. Belzoni +digs and measures in the mummy-pits and pyramids of +Thebes, until he can see the end of the difference between +the monstrous work and himself. When he has satisfied +himself, in general and in detail, that it was made by +such a person as he, so armed and so motived, and to ends +to which he himself should also have worked, the problem +is solved; his thought lives along the whole line of +temples and sphinxes and catacombs, passes through +them all with satisfaction, and they live again to the +mind, or are now. + +A Gothic cathedral affirms that it was done by us and +not done by us. Surely it was by man, but we find it +not in our man. But we apply ourselves to the history +of its production. We put ourselves into the place and +state of the builder. We remember the forest-dwellers, +the first temples, the adherence to the first type, +and the decoration of it as the wealth of the nation +increased; the value which is given to wood by carving +led to the carving over the whole mountain of stone of +a cathedral. When we have gone through this process, +and added thereto the Catholic Church, its cross, its +music, its processions, its Saints' days and image- +worship, we have as it were been the man that made the +minster; we have seen how it could and must be. We have +the sufficient reason. + +The difference between men is in their principle of +association. Some men classify objects by color and +size and other accidents of appearance; others by +intrinsic likeness, or by the relation of cause and +effect. The progress of the intellect is to the +clearer vision of causes, which neglects surface +differences. To the poet, to the philosopher, to the +saint, all things are friendly and sacred, all events +profitable, all days holy, all men divine. For the eye +is fastened on the life, and slights the circumstance. +Every chemical substance, every plant, every animal in +its growth, teaches the unity of cause, the variety of +appearance. + +Upborne and surrounded as we are by this all-creating +nature, soft and fluid as a cloud or the air, why +should we be such hard pedants, and magnify a few +forms? Why should we make account of time, or of +magnitude, or of figure? The soul knows them not, and +genius, obeying its law, knows how to play with them +as a young child plays with graybeards and in +churches. Genius studies the causal thought, and far +back in the womb of things sees the rays parting from +one orb, that diverge, ere they fall, by infinite +diameters. Genius watches the monad through all his +masks as he performs the metempsychosis of nature. +Genius detects through the fly, through the +caterpillar, through the grub, through the egg, the +constant individual; through countless individuals +the fixed species; through many species the genus; +through all genera the steadfast type; through all +the kingdoms of organized life the eternal unity. +Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never +the same. She casts the same thought into troops of +forms, as a poet makes twenty fables with one moral. +Through the bruteness and toughness of matter, a +subtle spirit bends all things to its own will. The +adamant streams into soft but precise form before it, +and whilst I look at it its outline and texture are +changed again. Nothing is so fleeting as form; yet +never does it quite deny itself. In man we still trace +the remains or hints of all that we esteem badges of +servitude in the lower races; yet in him they enhance +his nobleness and grace; as Io, in Aeschylus, +transformed to a cow, offends the imagination; but how +changed when as Isis in Egypt she meets Osiris-Jove, +a beautiful woman with nothing of the metamorphosis +left but the lunar horns as the splendid ornament of +her brows! + +The identity of history is equally intrinsic, the +diversity equally obvious. There is, at the surface, +infinite variety of things; at the centre there is +simplicity of cause. How many are the acts of one man +in which we recognize the same character! Observe the +sources of our information in respect to the Greek +genius. We have the civil history of that people, as +Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, and Plutarch have +given it; a very sufficient account of what manner of +persons they were and what they did. We have the same +national mind expressed for us again in their +literature, in epic and lyric poems, drama, and +philosophy; a very complete form. Then we have it once +more in their architecture, a beauty as of temperance +itself, limited to the straight line and the square, +--a builded geometry. Then we have it once again in +sculpture, the "tongue on the balance of expression," +a multitude of forms in the utmost freedom of action +and never transgressing the ideal serenity; like +votaries performing some religious dance before the +gods, and, though in convulsive pain or mortal combat, +never daring to break the figure and decorum of their +dance. Thus of the genius of one remarkable people we +have a fourfold representation: and to the senses what +more unlike than an ode of Pindar, a marble centaur, +the peristyle of the Parthenon, and the last actions +of Phocion? + +Every one must have observed faces and forms which, +without any resembling feature, make a like impression +on the beholder. A particular picture or copy of +verses, if it do not awaken the same train of images, +will yet superinduce the same sentiment as some wild +mountain walk, although the resemblance is nowise +obvious to the senses, but is occult and out of the +reach of the understanding. Nature is an endless +combination and repetition of a very few laws. She +hums the old well-known air through innumerable +variations. + +Nature is full of a sublime family likeness throughout +her works, and delights in startling us with resemblances +in the most unexpected quarters. I have seen the head of +an old sachem of the forest which at once reminded the +eye of a bald mountain summit, and the furrows of the brow +suggested the strata of the rock. There are men whose +manners have the same essential splendor as the simple +and awful sculpture on the friezes of the Parthenon and +the remains of the earliest Greek art. And there are +compositions of the same strain to be found in the books +of all ages. What is Guido's Rospigliosi Aurora but a +morning thought, as the horses in it are only a morning +cloud? If any one will but take pains to observe the +variety of actions to which he is equally inclined in +certain moods of mind, and those to which he is averse, +he will see how deep is the chain of affinity. + +A painter told me that nobody could draw a tree +without in some sort becoming a tree; or draw a child +by studying the outlines of its form merely,--but, +by watching for a time his motions and plays, the +painter enters into his nature and can then draw him +at will in every attitude. So Roos "entered into the +inmost nature of a sheep." I knew a draughtsman +employed in a public survey who found that he could +not sketch the rocks until their geological structure +was first explained to him. In a certain state of +thought is the common origin of very diverse works. It +is the spirit and not the fact that is identical. By a +deeper apprehension, and not primarily by a painful +acquisition of many manual skills, the artist attains +the power of awakening other souls to a given activity. + +It has been said that "common souls pay with what they +do, nobler souls with that which they are." And why? +Because a profound nature awakens in us by its actions +and words, by its very looks and manners, the same power +and beauty that a gallery of sculpture or of pictures +addresses. + +Civil and natural history, the history of art and of +literature, must be explained from individual history, +or must remain words. There is nothing but is related +to us, nothing that does not interest us,--kingdom, +college, tree, horse, or iron shoe,--the roots of all +things are in man. Santa Croce and the Dome of St. +Peter's are lame copies after a divine model. Strasburg +Cathedral is a material counterpart of the soul of Erwin +of Steinbach. The true poem is the poet's mind; the true +ship is the ship-builder. In the man, could we lay him +open, we should see the reason for the last flourish and +tendril of his work; as every spine and tint in the +sea-shell preexists in the secreting organs of the fish. +The whole of heraldry and of chivalry is in courtesy. A +man of fine manners shall pronounce your name with all +the ornament that titles of nobility could ever add. + +The trivial experience of every day is always verifying +some old prediction to us and converting into things the +words and signs which we had heard and seen without heed. +A lady with whom I was riding in the forest said to me +that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the +genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the +wayfarer had passed onward; a thought which poetry has +celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off +on the approach of human feet. The man who has seen the +rising moon break out of the clouds at midnight, has been +present like an archangel at the creation of light and of +the world. I remember one summer day in the fields my +companion pointed out to me a broad cloud, which might +extend a quarter of a mile parallel to the horizon, quite +accurately in the form of a cherub as painted over churches, +--a round block in the centre, which it was easy to animate +with eyes and mouth, supported on either side by wide- +stretched symmetrical wings. What appears once in the +atmosphere may appear often, and it was undoubtedly the +archetype of that familiar ornament. I have seen in the +sky a chain of summer lightning which at once showed to +me that the Greeks drew from nature when they painted the +thunderbolt in the hand of Jove. I have seen a snow-drift +along the sides of the stone wall which obviously gave the +idea of the common architectural scroll to abut a tower. + +By surrounding ourselves with the original circumstances +we invent anew the orders and the ornaments of architecture, +as we see how each people merely decorated its primitive +abodes. The Doric temple preserves the semblance of the +wooden cabin in which the Dorian dwelt. The Chinese pagoda +is plainly a Tartar tent. The Indian and Egyptian temples +still betray the mounds and subterranean houses of their +forefathers. "The custom of making houses and tombs in +the living rock," says Heeren in his Researches on the +Ethiopians, "determined very naturally the principal +character of the Nubian Egyptian architecture to the +colossal form which it assumed. In these caverns, already +prepared by nature, the eye was accustomed to dwell on +huge shapes and masses, so that when art came to the +assistance of nature it could not move on a small scale +without degrading itself. What would statues of the usual +size, or neat porches and wings have been, associated with +those gigantic halls before which only Colossi could sit +as watchmen or lean on the pillars of the interior?" + +The Gothic church plainly originated in a rude adaptation +of the forest trees, with all their boughs, to a festal +or solemn arcade; as the bands about the cleft pillars +still indicate the green withes that tied them. No one +can walk in a road cut through pine woods, without being +struck with the architectural appearance of the grove, +especially in winter, when the barrenness of all other +trees shows the low arch of the Saxons. In the woods in +a winter afternoon one will see as readily the origin of +the stained glass window, with which the Gothic cathedrals +are adorned, in the colors of the western sky seen through +the bare and crossing branches of the forest. Nor can any +lover of nature enter the old piles of Oxford and the +English cathedrals, without feeling that the forest +overpowered the mind of the builder, and that his chisel, +his saw and plane still reproduced its ferns, its spikes +of flowers, its locust, elm, oak, pine, fir and spruce. + +The Gothic cathedral is a blossoming in stone subdued +by the insatiable demand of harmony in man. The +mountain of granite blooms into an eternal flower, +with the lightness and delicate finish as well as the +aerial proportions and perspective of vegetable beauty. + +In like manner all public facts are to be individualized, +all private facts are to be generalized. Then at once +History becomes fluid and true, and Biography deep and +sublime. As the Persian imitated in the slender shafts +and capitals of his architecture the stem and flower of +the lotus and palm, so the Persian court in its magnificent +era never gave over the nomadism of its barbarous tribes, +but travelled from Ecbatana, where the spring was spent, +to Susa in summer and to Babylon for the winter. + +In the early history of Asia and Africa, Nomadism and +Agriculture are the two antagonist facts. The geography +of Asia and of Africa necessitated a nomadic life. But +the nomads were the terror of all those whom the soil +or the advantages of a market had induced to build towns. +Agriculture therefore was a religious injunction, because +of the perils of the state from nomadism. And in these +late and civil countries of England and America these +propensities still fight out the old battle, in the nation +and in the individual. The nomads of Africa were constrained +to wander, by the attacks of the gad-fly, which drives the +cattle mad, and so compels the tribe to emigrate in the +rainy season and to drive off the cattle to the higher sandy +regions. The nomads of Asia follow the pasturage from month +to month. In America and Europe the nomadism is of trade and +curiosity; a progress, certainly, from the gad-fly of +Astaboras to the Anglo and Italo-mania of Boston Bay. Sacred +cities, to which a periodical religious pilgrimage was +enjoined, or stringent laws and customs, tending to invigorate +the national bond, were the check on the old rovers; and the +cumulative values of long residence are the restraints on the +itineracy of the present day. The antagonism of the two +tendencies is not less active in individuals, as the love of +adventure or the love of repose happens to predominate. A man +of rude health and flowing spirits has the faculty of rapid +domestication, lives in his wagon and roams through all +latitudes as easily as a Calmuc. At sea, or in the forest, or +in the snow, he sleeps as warm, dines with as good appetite, +and associates as happily as beside his own chimneys. Or +perhaps his facility is deeper seated, in the increased range +of his faculties of observation, which yield him points of +interest wherever fresh objects meet his eyes. The pastoral +nations were needy and hungry to desperation; and this +intellectual nomadism, in its excess, bankrupts the mind +through the dissipation of power on a miscellany of objects. +The home-keeping wit, on the other hand, is that continence +or content which finds all the elements of life in its own +soil; and which has its own perils of monotony and +deterioration, if not stimulated by foreign infusions. + +Every thing the individual sees without him corresponds to +his states of mind, and every thing is in turn intelligible +to him, as his onward thinking leads him into the truth to +which that fact or series belongs. + +The primeval world,--the Fore-World, as the Germans say, +--I can dive to it in myself as well as grope for it with +researching fingers in catacombs, libraries, and the broken +reliefs and torsos of ruined villas. + +What is the foundation of that interest all men feel in +Greek history, letters, art, and poetry, in all its periods +from the Heroic or Homeric age down to the domestic life of +the Athenians and Spartans, four or five centuries later? +What but this, that every man passes personally through a +Grecian period. The Grecian state is the era of the bodily +nature, the perfection of the senses,--of the spiritual +nature unfolded in strict unity with the body. In it existed +those human forms which supplied the sculptor with his +models of Hercules, Phoebus, and Jove; not like the forms +abounding in the streets of modern cities, wherein the face +is a confused blur of features, but composed of incorrupt, +sharply defined and symmetrical features, whose eye-sockets +are so formed that it would be impossible for such eyes to +squint and take furtive glances on this side and on that, but +they must turn the whole head. The manners of that period are +plain and fierce. The reverence exhibited is for personal +qualities; courage, address, self-command, justice, strength, +swiftness, a loud voice, a broad chest. Luxury and elegance +are not known. A sparse population and want make every man his +own valet, cook, butcher and soldier, and the habit of supplying +his own needs educates the body to wonderful performances. Such +are the Agamemnon and Diomed of Homer, and not far different is +the picture Xenophon gives of himself and his compatriots in the +Retreat of the Ten Thousand. "After the army had crossed the +river Teleboas in Armenia, there fell much snow, and the troops +lay miserably on the ground covered with it. But Xenophon arose +naked, and taking an axe, began to split wood; whereupon others +rose and did the like." Throughout his army exists a boundless +liberty of speech. They quarrel for plunder, they wrangle with +the generals on each new order, and Xenophon is as sharp-tongued +as any and sharper-tongued than most, and so gives as good as he +gets. Who does not see that this is a gang of great boys, with +such a code of honor and such lax discipline as great boys have? + +The costly charm of the ancient tragedy, and indeed of all the +old literature, is that the persons speak simply,--speak as +persons who have great good sense without knowing it, before +yet the reflective habit has become the predominant habit of +the mind. Our admiration of the antique is not admiration of +the old, but of the natural. The Greeks are not reflective, but +perfect in their senses and in their health, with the finest +physical organization in the world. Adults acted with the +simplicity and grace of children. They made vases, tragedies, +and statues, such as healthy senses should,--that is, in good +taste. Such things have continued to be made in all ages, and +are now, wherever a healthy physique exists; but, as a class, +from their superior organization, they have surpassed all. They +combine the energy of manhood with the engaging unconsciousness +of childhood. The attraction of these manners is that they +belong to man, and are known to every man in virtue of his +being once a child; besides that there are always individuals +who retain these characteristics. A person of childlike genius +and inborn energy is still a Greek, and revives our love of the +Muse of Hellas. I admire the love of nature in the Philoctetes. +In reading those fine apostrophes to sleep, to the stars, rocks, +mountains and waves, I feel time passing away as an ebbing sea. +I feel the eternity of man, the identity of his thought. The +Greek had it seems the same fellow-beings as I. The sun and moon, +water and fire, met his heart precisely as they meet mine. Then +the vaunted distinction between Greek and English, between Classic +and Romantic schools, seems superficial and pedantic. When a +thought of Plato becomes a thought to me,--when a truth that +fired the soul of Pindar fires mine, time is no more. When I +feel that we two meet in a perception, that our two souls are +tinged with the same hue, and do as it were run into one, why +should I measure degrees of latitude, why should I count +Egyptian years? + +The student interprets the age of chivalry by his own +age of chivalry, and the days of maritime adventure +and circumnavigation by quite parallel miniature +experiences of his own. To the sacred history of the +world he has the same key. When the voice of a prophet +out of the deeps of antiquity merely echoes to him a +sentiment of his infancy, a prayer of his youth, he then +pierces to the truth through all the confusion of +tradition and the caricature of institutions. + +Rare, extravagant spirits come by us at intervals, who +disclose to us new facts in nature. I see that men of +God have from time to time walked among men and made +their commission felt in the heart and soul of the +commonest hearer. Hence evidently the tripod, the +priest, the priestess inspired by the divine afflatus. + +Jesus astonishes and overpowers sensual people. They +cannot unite him to history, or reconcile him with +themselves. As they come to revere their intuitions +and aspire to live holily, their own piety explains +every fact, every word. + +How easily these old worships of Moses, of Zoroaster, +of Menu, of Socrates, domesticate themselves in the +mind. I cannot find any antiquity in them. They are +mine as much as theirs. + +I have seen the first monks and anchorets, without +crossing seas or centuries. More than once some +individual has appeared to me with such negligence of +labor and such commanding contemplation, a haughty +beneficiary begging in the name of God, as made good +to the nineteenth century Simeon the Stylite, the +Thebais, and the first Capuchins. + +The priestcraft of the East and West, of the Magian, +Brahmin, Druid, and Inca, is expounded in the individual's +private life. The cramping influence of a hard formalist +on a young child, in repressing his spirits and courage, +paralyzing the understanding, and that without producing +indignation, but only fear and obedience, and even much +sympathy with the tyranny,--is a familiar fact, explained +to the child when he becomes a man, only by seeing that +the oppressor of his youth is himself a child tyrannized +over by those names and words and forms of whose influence +he was merely the organ to the youth. The fact teaches him +how Belus was worshipped and how the Pyramids were built, +better than the discovery by Champollion of the names of +all the workmen and the cost of every tile. He finds +Assyria and the Mounds of Cholula at his door, and himself +has laid the courses. + +Again, in that protest which each considerate person +makes against the superstition of his times, he +repeats step for step the part of old reformers, and +in the search after truth finds, like them, new perils +to virtue. He learns again what moral vigor is needed +to supply the girdle of a superstition. A great +licentiousness treads on the heels of a reformation. +How many times in the history of the world has the +Luther of the day had to lament the decay of piety in +his own household! "Doctor," said his wife to Martin +Luther, one day, "how is it that whilst subject to +papacy we prayed so often and with such fervor, whilst +now we pray with the utmost coldness and very seldom?" + +The advancing man discovers how deep a property he has +in literature,--in all fable as well as in all history. +He finds that the poet was no odd fellow who described +strange and impossible situations, but that universal +man wrote by his pen a confession true for one and true +for all. His own secret biography he finds in lines +wonderfully intelligible to him, dotted down before he +was born. One after another he comes up in his private +adventures with every fable of Aesop, of Homer, of Hafiz, +of Ariosto, of Chaucer, of Scott, and verifies them with +his own head and hands. + +The beautiful fables of the Greeks, being proper +creations of the imagination and not of the fancy, are +universal verities. What a range of meanings and what +perpetual pertinence has the story of Prometheus! +Beside its primary value as the first chapter of the +history of Europe, (the mythology thinly veiling +authentic facts, the invention of the mechanic arts +and the migration of colonies,) it gives the history +of religion, with some closeness to the faith of later +ages. Prometheus is the Jesus of the old mythology. He +is the friend of man; stands between the unjust "justice" +of the Eternal Father and the race of mortals, and readily +suffers all things on their account. But where it departs +from the Calvinistic Christianity and exhibits him as the +defier of Jove, it represents a state of mind which readily +appears wherever the doctrine of Theism is taught in a +crude, objective form, and which seems the self-defence +of man against this untruth, namely a discontent with +the believed fact that a God exists, and a feeling +that the obligation of reverence is onerous. It would +steal if it could the fire of the Creator, and live +apart from him and independent of him. The Prometheus +Vinctus is the romance of skepticism. Not less true to +all time are the details of that stately apologue. +Apollo kept the flocks of Admetus, said the poets. +When the gods come among men, they are not known. +Jesus was not; Socrates and Shakspeare were not. +Antaeus was suffocated by the gripe of Hercules, but +every time he touched his mother earth his strength +was renewed. Man is the broken giant, and in all his +weakness both his body and his mind are invigorated +by habits of conversation with nature. The power of +music, the power of poetry, to unfix and as it were +clap wings to solid nature, interprets the riddle of +Orpheus. The philosophical perception of identity +through endless mutations of form makes him know the +Proteus. What else am I who laughed or wept yesterday, +who slept last night like a corpse, and this morning +stood and ran? And what see I on any side but the +transmigrations of Proteus? I can symbolize my thought +by using the name of any creature, of any fact, because +every creature is man agent or patient. Tantalus is +but a name for you and me. Tantalus means the +impossibility of drinking the waters of thought which +are always gleaming and waving within sight of the soul. +The transmigration of souls is no fable. I would it were; +but men and women are only half human. Every animal of +the barn-yard, the field and the forest, of the earth +and of the waters that are under the earth, has contrived +to get a footing and to leave the print of its features +and form in some one or other of these upright, heaven- +facing speakers. Ah! brother, stop the ebb of thy soul, +--ebbing downward into the forms into whose habits thou +hast now for many years slid. As near and proper to us +is also that old fable of the Sphinx, who was said to +sit in the road-side and put riddles to every passenger. +If the man could not answer, she swallowed him alive. If +he could solve the riddle, the Sphinx was slain. What is +our life but an endless flight of winged facts or events? +In splendid variety these changes come, all putting +questions to the human spirit. Those men who cannot answer +by a superior wisdom these facts or questions of time, +serve them. Facts encumber them, tyrannize over them, and +make the men of routine, the men of sense, in whom a +literal obedience to facts has extinguished every spark +of that light by which man is truly man. But if the man +is true to his better instincts or sentiments, and refuses +the dominion of facts, as one that comes of a higher race; +remains fast by the soul and sees the principle, then the +facts fall aptly and supple into their places; they know +their master, and the meanest of them glorifies him. + +See in Goethe's Helena the same desire that every word +should be a thing. These figures, he would say, these +Chirons, Griffins, Phorkyas, Helen and Leda, are +somewhat, and do exert a specific influence on the +mind. So far then are they eternal entities, as real +to-day as in the first Olympiad. Much revolving them +he writes out freely his humor, and gives them body +to his own imagination. And although that poem be as +vague and fantastic as a dream, yet is it much more +attractive than the more regular dramatic pieces of +the same author, for the reason that it operates a +wonderful relief to the mind from the routine of +customary images,--awakens the reader's invention +and fancy by the wild freedom of the design, and by +the unceasing succession of brisk shocks of surprise. + +The universal nature, too strong for the petty nature +of the bard, sits on his neck and writes through his +hand; so that when he seems to vent a mere caprice and +wild romance, the issue is an exact allegory. Hence +Plato said that "poets utter great and wise things +which they do not themselves understand." All the +fictions of the Middle Age explain themselves as a +masked or frolic expression of that which in grave +earnest the mind of that period toiled to achieve. +Magic and all that is ascribed to it is a deep +presentiment of the powers of science. The shoes of +swiftness, the sword of sharpness, the power of +subduing the elements, of using the secret virtues of +minerals, of understanding the voices of birds, are +the obscure efforts of the mind in a right direction. +The preternatural prowess of the hero, the gift of +perpetual youth, and the like, are alike the endeavour +of the human spirit "to bend the shows of things to +the desires of the mind." + +In Perceforest and Amadis de Gaul a garland and a +rose bloom on the head of her who is faithful, and +fade on the brow of the inconstant. In the story of +the Boy and the Mantle even a mature reader may be +surprised with a glow of virtuous pleasure at the +triumph of the gentle Venelas; and indeed all the +postulates of elfin annals,--that the fairies do not +like to be named; that their gifts are capricious and +not to be trusted; that who seeks a treasure must not +speak; and the like,--I find true in Concord, however +they might be in Cornwall or Bretagne. + +Is it otherwise in the newest romance? I read the +Bride of Lammermoor. Sir William Ashton is a mask for +a vulgar temptation, Ravenswood Castle a fine name for +proud poverty, and the foreign mission of state only a +Bunyan disguise for honest industry. We may all shoot +a wild bull that would toss the good and beautiful, by +fighting down the unjust and sensual. Lucy Ashton is +another name for fidelity, which is always beautiful +and always liable to calamity in this world. + + + +But along with the civil and metaphysical history of +man, another history goes daily forward,--that of +the external world,--in which he is not less strictly +implicated. He is the compend of time; he is also the +correlative of nature. His power consists in the +multitude of his affinities, in the fact that his life +is intertwined with the whole chain of organic and +inorganic being. In old Rome the public roads +beginning at the Forum proceeded north, south, east, +west, to the centre of every province of the empire, +making each market-town of Persia, Spain and Britain +pervious to the soldiers of the capital: so out of the +human heart go as it were highways to the heart of +every object in nature, to reduce it under the +dominion of man. A man is a bundle of relations, a +knot of roots, whose flower and fruitage is the world. +His faculties refer to natures out of him and predict +the world he is to inhabit, as the fins of the fish +foreshow that water exists, or the wings of an eagle +in the egg presuppose air. He cannot live without a +world. Put Napoleon in an island prison, let his +faculties find no men to act on, no Alps to climb, no +stake to play for, and he would beat the air, and +appear stupid. Transport him to large countries, dense +population, complex interests and antagonist power, +and you shall see that the man Napoleon, bounded that +is by such a profile and outline, is not the virtual +Napoleon. This is but Talbot's shadow;-- + +"His substance is not here. +For what you see is but the smallest part +And least proportion of humanity; +But were the whole frame here, +It is of such a spacious, lofty pitch, +Your roof were not sufficient to contain it." +Henry VI. + +Columbus needs a planet to shape his course upon. +Newton and Laplace need myriads of age and thick-strewn +celestial areas. One may say a gravitating solar system +is already prophesied in the nature of Newton's mind. +Not less does the brain of Davy or of Gay-Lussac, from +childhood exploring the affinities and repulsions of +particles, anticipate the laws of organization. Does not +the eye of the human embryo predict the light? the ear of +Handel predict the witchcraft of harmonic sound? Do not +the constructive fingers of Watt, Fulton, Whittemore, +Arkwright, predict the fusible, hard, and temperable +texture of metals, the properties of stone, water, and +wood? Do not the lovely attributes of the maiden child +predict the refinements and decorations of civil society? +Here also we are reminded of the action of man on man. A +mind might ponder its thought for ages and not gain so +much self-knowledge as the passion of love shall teach it +in a day. Who knows himself before he has been thrilled +with indignation at an outrage, or has heard an eloquent +tongue, or has shared the throb of thousands in a national +exultation or alarm? No man can antedate his experience, +or guess what faculty or feeling a new object shall unlock, +any more than he can draw to-day the face of a person whom +he shall see to-morrow for the first time. + +I will not now go behind the general statement to explore +the reason of this correspondency. Let it suffice that in +the light of these two facts, namely, that the mind is One, +and that nature is its correlative, history is to be read +and written. + +Thus in all ways does the soul concentrate and reproduce +its treasures for each pupil. He too shall pass through +the whole cycle of experience. He shall collect into a +focus the rays of nature. History no longer shall be a +dull book. It shall walk incarnate in every just and wise +man. You shall not tell me by languages and titles a +catalogue of the volumes you have read. You shall make me +feel what periods you have lived. A man shall be the Temple +of Fame. He shall walk, as the poets have described that +goddess, in a robe painted all over with wonderful events +and experiences;--his own form and features by their +exalted intelligence shall be that variegated vest. I +shall find in him the Foreworld; in his childhood the Age +of Gold, the Apples of Knowledge, the Argonautic Expedition, +the calling of Abraham, the building of the Temple, the +Advent of Christ, Dark Ages, the Revival of Letters, the +Reformation, the discovery of new lands, the opening of new +sciences and new regions in man. He shall be the priest of +Pan, and bring with him into humble cottages the blessing of +the morning stars, and all the recorded benefits of heaven +and earth. + +Is there somewhat overweening in this claim? Then I reject +all I have written, for what is the use of pretending to +know what we know not? But it is the fault of our rhetoric +that we cannot strongly state one fact without seeming to +belie some other. I hold our actual knowledge very cheap. +Hear the rats in the wall, see the lizard on the fence, the +fungus under foot, the lichen on the log. What do I know +sympathetically, morally, of either of these worlds of life? +As old as the Caucasian man,--perhaps older,--these creatures +have kept their counsel beside him, and there is no record of +any word or sign that has passed from one to the other. What +connection do the books show between the fifty or sixty +chemical elements and the historical eras? Nay, what does +history yet record of the metaphysical annals of man? What +light does it shed on those mysteries which we hide under the +names Death and Immortality? Yet every history should be +written in a wisdom which divined the range of our affinities +and looked at facts as symbols. I am ashamed to see what a +shallow village tale our so-called History is. How many times +we must say Rome, and Paris, and Constantinople! What does +Rome know of rat and lizard? What are Olympiads and Consulates +to these neighboring systems of being? Nay, what food or +experience or succor have they for the Esquimaux seal-hunter, +for the Kanaka in his canoe, for the fisherman, the stevedore, +the porter? + +Broader and deeper we must write our annals,--from an ethical +reformation, from an influx of the ever new, ever sanative +conscience,--if we would trulier express our central and wide- +related nature, instead of this old chronology of selfishness +and pride to which we have too long lent our eyes. Already that +day exists for us, shines in on us at unawares, but the path of +science and of letters is not the way into nature. The idiot, +the Indian, the child and unschooled farmer's boy stand nearer +to the light by which nature is to be read, than the dissector +or the antiquary. + + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + +"Ne te quaesiveris extra." + +"Man is his own star; and the soul that can +Render an honest and a perfect man, +Commands all light, all influence, all fate; +Nothing to him falls early or too late. +Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, +Our fatal shadows that walk by us still." + +Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher's Honest Man's Fortune. + + + +Cast the bantling on the rocks, +Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, +Wintered with the hawk and fox. +Power and speed be hands and feet. + + + +II. +SELF-RELIANCE. + +I READ the other day some verses written by an eminent +painter which were original and not conventional. The +soul always hears an admonition in such lines, let the +subject be what it may. The sentiment they instil is of +more value than any thought they may contain. To believe +your own thought, to believe that what is true for you +in your private heart is true for all men,--that is genius. +Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal +sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost, and +our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets +of the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind +is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato +and Milton is that they set at naught books and traditions, +and spoke not what men, but what they thought. A man should +learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes +across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the +firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without +notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of +genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come +back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works +of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They +teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good- +humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices +is on the other side. Else to-morrow a stranger will say +with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and +felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame +our own opinion from another. + +There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at +the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is +suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as +his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, +no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his +toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to +till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and +none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he +know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, +one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This +sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. +The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might +testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, +and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. +It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, +so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work +made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has +put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has +said or done otherwise shall give him no peace. It is a +deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius +deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope. + +Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept +the place the divine providence has found for you, the society +of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men +have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the +genius of their age, betraying their perception that the +absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working +through their hands, predominating in all their being. And +we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same +transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected +corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, +redeemers and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort and +advancing on Chaos and the Dark. + +What pretty oracles nature yields us on this text in the +face and behavior of children, babes, and even brutes! That +divided and rebel mind, that distrust of a sentiment because +our arithmetic has computed the strength and means opposed to +our purpose, these have not. Their mind being whole, their +eye is as yet unconquered, and when we look in their faces we +are disconcerted. Infancy conforms to nobody; all conform to +it; so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the +adults who prattle and play to it. So God has armed youth and +puberty and manhood no less with its own piquancy and charm, +and made it enviable and gracious and its claims not to be put +by, if it will stand by itself. Do not think the youth has no +force, because he cannot speak to you and me. Hark! in the next +room his voice is sufficiently clear and emphatic. It seems he +knows how to speak to his contemporaries. Bashful or bold then, +he will know how to make us seniors very unnecessary. + +The nonchalance of boys who are sure of a dinner, and would +disdain as much as a lord to do or say aught to conciliate +one, is the healthy attitude of human nature. A boy is in +the parlor what the pit is in the playhouse; independent, +irresponsible, looking out from his corner on such people +and facts as pass by, he tries and sentences them on their +merits, in the swift, summary way of boys, as good, bad, +interesting, silly, eloquent, troublesome. He cumbers himself +never about consequences, about interests; he gives an +independent, genuine verdict. You must court him; he does +not court you. But the man is as it were clapped into jail +by his consciousness. As soon as he has once acted or spoken +with eclat he is a committed person, watched by the sympathy +or the hatred of hundreds, whose affections must now enter +into his account. There is no Lethe for this. Ah, that he +could pass again into his neutrality! Who can thus avoid all +pledges and, having observed, observe again from the same +unaffected, unbiased, unbribable, unaffrighted innocence,-- +must always be formidable. He would utter opinions on all +passing affairs, which being seen to be not private but +necessary, would sink like darts into the ear of men and +put them in fear. + +These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they +grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society +everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one +of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the +members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each +shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. +The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its +aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and +customs. + +Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would +gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of +goodness, but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at +last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you +to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world. I +remember an answer which when quite young I was prompted to +make to a valued adviser who was wont to importune me with the +dear old doctrines of the church. On my saying, "What have I +to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from +within?" my friend suggested,--"But these impulses may be from +below, not from above." I replied, "They do not seem to me to +be such; but if I am the Devil's child, I will live then from +the Devil." No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. +Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or +this; the only right is what is after my constitution; the only +wrong what is against it. A man is to carry himself in the +presence of all opposition as if every thing were titular and +ephemeral but he. I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate +to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. +Every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me +more than is right. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak +the rude truth in all ways. If malice and vanity wear the coat +of philanthropy, shall that pass? If an angry bigot assumes this +bountiful cause of Abolition, and comes to me with his last news +from Barbadoes, why should I not say to him, 'Go love thy infant; +love thy wood-chopper; be good-natured and modest; have that +grace; and never varnish your hard, uncharitable ambition with +this incredible tenderness for black folk a thousand miles off. +Thy love afar is spite at home.' Rough and graceless would be +such greeting, but truth is handsomer than the affectation of +love. Your goodness must have some edge to it,--else it is none. +The doctrine of hatred must be preached, as the counteraction +of the doctrine of love, when that pules and whines. I shun +father and mother and wife and brother when my genius calls +me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, *Whim*. I +hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot +spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why +I seek or why I exclude company. Then again, do not tell me, +as a good man did to-day, of my obligation to put all poor men +in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee thou foolish +philanthropist that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent, I +give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not +belong. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual +affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison +if need be; but your miscellaneous popular charities; the +education at college of fools; the building of meeting-houses +to the vain end to which many now stand; alms to sots, and the +thousand-fold Relief Societies;--though I confess with shame I +sometimes succumb and give the dollar, it is a wicked dollar +which by and by I shall have the manhood to withhold. + +Virtues are, in the popular estimate, rather the exception +than the rule. There is the man and his virtues. Men do +what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or +charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of +daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an +apology or extenuation of their living in the world,--as +invalids and the insane pay a high board. Their virtues are +penances. I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is +for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it +should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than +that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be +sound and sweet, and not to need diet and bleeding. I ask +primary evidence that you are a man, and refuse this appeal +from the man to his actions. I know that for myself it makes +no difference whether I do or forbear those actions which +are reckoned excellent. I cannot consent to pay for a privilege +where I have intrinsic right. Few and mean as my gifts may be, +I actually am, and do not need for my own assurance or the +assurance of my fellows any secondary testimony. + +What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people +think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual +life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness +and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find +those who think they know what is your duty better than you +know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's +opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but +the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with +perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. + +The objection to conforming to usages that have become dead +to you is that it scatters your force. It loses your time and +blurs the impression of your character. If you maintain a dead +church, contribute to a dead Bible-society, vote with a great +party either for the government or against it, spread your +table like base housekeepers,--under all these screens I have +difficulty to detect the precise man you are: and of course +so much force is withdrawn from your proper life. But do your +work, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you shall reinforce +yourself. A man must consider what a blindman's-buff is this +game of conformity. If I know your sect, I anticipate your +argument. I hear a preacher announce for his text and topic the +expediency of one of the institutions of his church. Do I not +know beforehand that not possibly can he say a new and spontaneous +word? Do I not know that with all this ostentation of examining +the grounds of the institution he will do no such thing? Do I +not know that he is pledged to himself not to look but at one +side, the permitted side, not as a man, but as a parish minister? +He is a retained attorney, and these airs of the bench are the +emptiest affectation. Well, most men have bound their eyes with +one or another handkerchief, and attached themselves to some +one of these communities of opinion. This conformity makes +them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, +but false in all particulars. Their every truth is not quite +true. Their two is not the real two, their four not the real +four; so that every word they say chagrins us and we know not +where to begin to set them right. Meantime nature is not slow +to equip us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we +adhere. We come to wear one cut of face and figure, and acquire +by degrees the gentlest asinine expression. There is a mortifying +experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak itself +also in the general history; I mean "the foolish face of praise," +the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel +at ease in answer to conversation which does not interest us. +The muscles, not spontaneously moved but moved by a low +usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the face +with the most disagreeable sensation. + +For nonconformity the world whips you with its displeasure. +And therefore a man must know how to estimate a sour face. +The by-standers look askance on him in the public street or +in the friend's parlor. If this aversation had its origin +in contempt and resistance like his own he might well go home +with a sad countenance; but the sour faces of the multitude, +like their sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on +and off as the wind blows and a newspaper directs. Yet is the +discontent of the multitude more formidable than that of the +senate and the college. It is easy enough for a firm man who +knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes. +Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid, as +being very vulnerable themselves. But when to their feminine +rage the indignation of the people is added, when the ignorant +and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute force +that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, +it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it +godlike as a trifle of no concernment. + +The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our +consistency; a reverence for our past act or word because +the eyes of others have no other data for computing our +orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint +them. + +But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why +drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict +somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? +Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? It seems +to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, +scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but to bring the past +for judgment into the thousand-eyed present, and live ever +in a new day. In your metaphysics you have denied personality +to the Deity, yet when the devout motions of the soul come, +yield to them heart and life, though they should clothe God +with shape and color. Leave your theory, as Joseph his coat +in the hand of the harlot, and flee. + +A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, +adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. +With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. +He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. +Speak what you think now in hard words and to-morrow speak +what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it +contradict every thing you said to-day.--'Ah, so you shall +be sure to be misunderstood.'--Is it so bad then to be +misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, +and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and +Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. +To be great is to be misunderstood. + +I suppose no man can violate his nature. All the sallies +of his will are rounded in by the law of his being, as the +inequalities of Andes and Himmaleh are insignificant in the +curve of the sphere. Nor does it matter how you gauge and +try him. A character is like an acrostic or Alexandrian +stanza;--read it forward, backward, or across, it still +spells the same thing. In this pleasing contrite wood-life +which God allows me, let me record day by day my honest +thought without prospect or retrospect, and, I cannot doubt, +it will be found symmetrical, though I mean it not and see +it not. My book should smell of pines and resound with the +hum of insects. The swallow over my window should interweave +that thread or straw he carries in his bill into my web also. +We pass for what we are. Character teaches above our wills. +Men imagine that they communicate their virtue or vice only +by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit a +breath every moment. + +There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, +so they be each honest and natural in their hour. For of +one will, the actions will be harmonious, however unlike +they seem. These varieties are lost sight of at a little +distance, at a little height of thought. One tendency +unites them all. The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag +line of a hundred tacks. See the line from a sufficient +distance, and it straightens itself to the average tendency. +Your genuine action will explain itself and will explain +your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. +Act singly, and what you have already done singly will justify +you now. Greatness appeals to the future. If I can be firm +enough to-day to do right and scorn eyes, I must have done +so much right before as to defend me now. Be it how it will, +do right now. Always scorn appearances and you always may. +The force of character is cumulative. All the foregone days +of virtue work their health into this. What makes the majesty +of the heroes of the senate and the field, which so fills the +imagination? The consciousness of a train of great days and +victories behind. They shed an united light on the advancing +actor. He is attended as by a visible escort of angels. That +is it which throws thunder into Chatham's voice, and dignity +into Washington's port, and America into Adams's eye. Honor +is venerable to us because it is no ephemera. It is always +ancient virtue. We worship it to-day because it is not of +to-day. We love it and pay it homage because it is not a +trap for our love and homage, but is self-dependent, self- +derived, and therefore of an old immaculate pedigree, even +if shown in a young person. + +I hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity +and consistency. Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous +henceforward. Instead of the gong for dinner, let us hear +a whistle from the Spartan fife. Let us never bow and +apologize more. A great man is coming to eat at my house. +I do not wish to please him; I wish that he should wish to +please me. I will stand here for humanity, and though I +would make it kind, I would make it true. Let us affront +and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment +of the times, and hurl in the face of custom and trade and +office, the fact which is the upshot of all history, that +there is a great responsible Thinker and Actor working +wherever a man works; that a true man belongs to no other +time or place, but is the centre of things. Where he is, +there is nature. He measures you and all men and all events. +Ordinarily, every body in society reminds us of somewhat +else, or of some other person. Character, reality, reminds +you of nothing else; it takes place of the whole creation. +The man must be so much that he must make all circumstances +indifferent. Every true man is a cause, a country, and an +age; requires infinite spaces and numbers and time fully to +accomplish his design;--and posterity seem to follow his +steps as a train of clients. A man Caesar is born, and for +ages after we have a Roman Empire. Christ is born, and +millions of minds so grow and cleave to his genius that +he is confounded with virtue and the possible of man. An +institution is the lengthened shadow of one man; as, +Monachism, of the Hermit Antony; the Reformation, of Luther; +Quakerism, of Fox; Methodism, of Wesley; Abolition, of Clarkson. +Scipio, Milton called "the height of Rome"; and all history +Resolves itself very easily into the biography of a few stout +and earnest persons. + +Let a man then know his worth, and keep things under his +feet. Let him not peep or steal, or skulk up and down with +the air of a charity-boy, a bastard, or an interloper in +the world which exists for him. But the man in the street, +finding no worth in himself which corresponds to the force +which built a tower or sculptured a marble god, feels poor +when he looks on these. To him a palace, a statue, or a +costly book have an alien and forbidding air, much like a +gay equipage, and seem to say like that, 'Who are you, Sir?' +Yet they all are his, suitors for his notice, petitioners +to his faculties that they will come out and take possession. +The picture waits for my verdict; it is not to command me, +but I am to settle its claims to praise. That popular fable +of the sot who was picked up dead drunk in the street, +carried to the duke's house, washed and dressed and laid in +the duke's bed, and, on his waking, treated with all obsequious +ceremony like the duke, and assured that he had been insane, +owes its popularity to the fact that it symbolizes so well +the state of man, who is in the world a sort of sot, but now +and then wakes up, exercises his reason and finds himself a +true prince. + +Our reading is mendicant and sycophantic. In history our +imagination plays us false. Kingdom and lordship, power +and estate, are a gaudier vocabulary than private John and +Edward in a small house and common day's work; but the things +of life are the same to both; the sum total of both is the +same. Why all this deference to Alfred and Scanderbeg and +Gustavus? Suppose they were virtuous; did they wear out +virtue? As great a stake depends on your private act to-day, +as followed their public and renowned steps. When private men +shall act with original views, the lustre will be transferred +from the actions of kings to those of gentlemen. + +The world has been instructed by its kings, who have so +magnetized the eyes of nations. It has been taught by this +colossal symbol the mutual reverence that is due from man +to man. The joyful loyalty with which men have everywhere +suffered the king, the noble, or the great proprietor to +walk among them by a law of his own, make his own scale of +men and things and reverse theirs, pay for benefits not +with money but with honor, and represent the law in his +person, was the hieroglyphic by which they obscurely +signified their consciousness of their own right and +comeliness, the right of every man. + +The magnetism which all original action exerts is explained +when we inquire the reason of self-trust. Who is the Trustee? +What is the aboriginal Self, on which a universal reliance +may be grounded? What is the nature and power of that science- +baffling star, without parallax, without calculable elements, +which shoots a ray of beauty even into trivial and impure +actions, if the least mark of independence appear? The inquiry +leads us to that source, at once the essence of genius, of +virtue, and of life, which we call Spontaneity or Instinct. +We denote this primary wisdom as Intuition, whilst all later +teachings are tuitions. In that deep force, the last fact +behind which analysis cannot go, all things find their common +origin. For the sense of being which in calm hours rises, we +know not how, in the soul, is not diverse from things, from +space, from light, from time, from man, but one with them and +proceeds obviously from the same source whence their life and +being also proceed. We first share the life by which things +exist and afterwards see them as appearances in nature and +forget that we have shared their cause. Here is the fountain +of action and of thought. Here are the lungs of that inspiration +which giveth man wisdom and which cannot be denied without +impiety and atheism. We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, +which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity. +When we discern justice, when we discern truth, we do nothing of +ourselves, but allow a passage to its beams. If we ask whence +this comes, if we seek to pry into the soul that causes, all +philosophy is at fault. Its presence or its absence is all we +can affirm. Every man discriminates between the voluntary acts +of his mind and his involuntary perceptions, and knows that to +his involuntary perceptions a perfect faith is due. He may err +in the expression of them, but he knows that these things are +so, like day and night, not to be disputed. My wilful actions +and acquisitions are but roving;--the idlest reverie, the +faintest native emotion, command my curiosity and respect. +Thoughtless people contradict as readily the statement of +perceptions as of opinions, or rather much more readily; for +they do not distinguish between perception and notion. They +fancy that I choose to see this or that thing. But perception +is not whimsical, but fatal. If I see a trait, my children +will see it after me, and in course of time all mankind,-- +although it may chance that no one has seen it before me. +For my perception of it is as much a fact as the sun. + +The relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure +that it is profane to seek to interpose helps. It must be +that when God speaketh he should communicate, not one thing, +but all things; should fill the world with his voice; should +scatter forth light, nature, time, souls, from the centre of +the present thought; and new date and new create the whole. +Whenever a mind is simple and receives a divine wisdom, old +things pass away,--means, teachers, texts, temples fall; it +lives now, and absorbs past and future into the present hour. +All things are made sacred by relation to it,--one as much +as another. All things are dissolved to their centre by their +cause, and in the universal miracle petty and particular +miracles disappear. If therefore a man claims to know and +speak of God and carries you backward to the phraseology of +some old mouldered nation in another country, in another world, +believe him not. Is the acorn better than the oak which is its +fulness and completion? Is the parent better than the child +into whom he has cast his ripened being? Whence then this +worship of the past? The centuries are conspirators against +the sanity and authority of the soul. Time and space are but +physiological colors which the eye makes, but the soul is +light: where it is, is day; where it was, is night; and history +is an impertinence and an injury if it be any thing more than +a cheerful apologue or parable of my being and becoming. + +Man is timid and apologetic; he is no longer upright; he +dares not say 'I think,' 'I am,' but quotes some saint or +sage. He is ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing +rose. These roses under my window make no reference to former +roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they +exist with God to-day. There is no time to them. There is +simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its +existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; +in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless +root there is no less. Its nature is satisfied and it +satisfies nature in all moments alike. But man postpones or +remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted +eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround +him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy +and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above +time. + +This should be plain enough. Yet see what strong intellects +dare not yet hear God himself unless he speak the phraseology +of I know not what David, or Jeremiah, or Paul. We shall not +always set so great a price on a few texts, on a few lives. +We are like children who repeat by rote the sentences of +grandames and tutors, and, as they grow older, of the men of +talents and character they chance to see,--painfully recollecting +the exact words they spoke; afterwards, when they come into the +point of view which those had who uttered these sayings, they +understand them and are willing to let the words go; for at any +time they can use words as good when occasion comes. If we live +truly, we shall see truly. It is as easy for the strong man to +be strong, as it is for the weak to be weak. When we have new +perception, we shall gladly disburden the memory of its hoarded +treasures as old rubbish. When a man lives with God, his voice +shall be as sweet as the murmur of the brook and the rustle of +the corn. + +And now at last the highest truth on this subject remains +unsaid; probably cannot be said; for all that we say is +the far-off remembering of the intuition. That thought by +what I can now nearest approach to say it, is this. When +good is near you, when you have life in yourself, it is not +by any known or accustomed way; you shall not discern the +footprints of any other; you shall not see the face of man; +you shall not hear any name;--the way, the thought, the good +shall be wholly strange and new. It shall exclude example +and experience. You take the way from man, not to man. All +persons that ever existed are its forgotten ministers. Fear +and hope are alike beneath it. There is somewhat low even +in hope. In the hour of vision there is nothing that can +be called gratitude, nor properly joy. The soul raised over +passion beholds identity and eternal causation, perceives +the self-existence of Truth and Right, and calms itself +with knowing that all things go well. Vast spaces of nature, +the Atlantic Ocean, the South Sea; long intervals of time, +years, centuries, are of no account. This which I think and +feel underlay every former state of life and circumstances, +as it does underlie my present, and what is called life, +and what is called death. + +Life only avails, not the having lived. Power ceases in the +instant of repose; it resides in the moment of transition +from a past to a new state, in the shooting of the gulf, in +the darting to an aim. This one fact the world hates; that +the soul becomes; for that for ever degrades the past, turns +all riches to poverty, all reputation to a shame, confounds +the saint with the rogue, shoves Jesus and Judas equally +aside. Why then do we prate of self-reliance? Inasmuch as +the soul is present there will be power not confident but +agent. To talk of reliance is a poor external way of speaking. +Speak rather of that which relies because it works and is. +Who has more obedience than I masters me, though he should +not raise his finger. Round him I must revolve by the +gravitation of spirits. We fancy it rhetoric when we speak +of eminent virtue. We do not yet see that virtue is Height, +and that a man or a company of men, plastic and permeable to +principles, by the law of nature must overpower and ride all +cities, nations, kings, rich men, poets, who are not. + +This is the ultimate fact which we so quickly reach on this, +as on every topic, the resolution of all into the ever-blessed +ONE. Self-existence is the attribute of the Supreme Cause, +and it constitutes the measure of good by the degree in which +it enters into all lower forms. All things real are so by so +much virtue as they contain. Commerce, husbandry, hunting, +whaling, war, eloquence, personal weight, are somewhat, and +engage my respect as examples of its presence and impure +action. I see the same law working in nature for conservation +and growth. Power is, in nature, the essential measure of right. +Nature suffers nothing to remain in her kingdoms which cannot +help itself. The genesis and maturation of a planet, its poise +and orbit, the bended tree recovering itself from the strong +wind, the vital resources of every animal and vegetable, are +demonstrations of the self-sufficing and therefore self-relying +soul. + +Thus all concentrates: let us not rove; let us sit at home +with the cause. Let us stun and astonish the intruding +rabble of men and books and institutions, by a simple +declaration of the divine fact. Bid the invaders take the +shoes from off their feet, for God is here within. Let our +simplicity judge them, and our docility to our own law +demonstrate the poverty of nature and fortune beside our +native riches. + +But now we are a mob. Man does not stand in awe of man, nor +is his genius admonished to stay at home, to put itself in +communication with the internal ocean, but it goes abroad +to beg a cup of water of the urns of other men. We must go +alone. I like the silent church before the service begins, +better than any preaching. How far off, how cool, how chaste +the persons look, begirt each one with a precinct or sanctuary! +So let us always sit. Why should we assume the faults of our +friend, or wife, or father, or child, because they sit around +our hearth, or are said to have the same blood? All men have +my blood and I have all men's. Not for that will I adopt their +petulance or folly, even to the extent of being ashamed of it. +But your isolation must not be mechanical, but spiritual, that +is, must be elevation. At times the whole world seems to be in +conspiracy to importune you with emphatic trifles. Friend, +client, child, sickness, fear, want, charity, all knock at once +at thy closet door and say,--'Come out unto us.' But keep thy +state; come not into their confusion. The power men possess to +annoy me I give them by a weak curiosity. No man can come near +me but through my act. "What we love that we have, but by +desire we bereave ourselves of the love." + +If we cannot at once rise to the sanctities of obedience and +faith, let us at least resist our temptations; let us enter +into the state of war and wake Thor and Woden, courage and +constancy, in our Saxon breasts. This is to be done in our +smooth times by speaking the truth. Check this lying +hospitality and lying affection. Live no longer to the +expectation of these deceived and deceiving people with +whom we converse. Say to them, 'O father, O mother, O wife, +O brother, O friend, I have lived with you after appearances +hitherto. Henceforward I am the truth's. Be it known unto +you that henceforward I obey no law less than the eternal +law. I will have no covenants but proximities. I shall +endeavour to nourish my parents, to support my family, to +be the chaste husband of one wife,--but these relations I +must fill after a new and unprecedented way. I appeal from +your customs. I must be myself. I cannot break myself any +longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, +we shall be the happier. If you cannot, I will still seek +to deserve that you should. I will not hide my tastes or +aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that +I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly +rejoices me and the heart appoints. If you are noble, I will +love you: if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by +hypocritical attentions. If you are true, but not in the same +truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. +I do this not selfishly but humbly and truly. It is alike your +interest, and mine, and all men's, however long we have dwelt +in lies, to live in truth. Does this sound harsh to-day? You +will soon love what is dictated by your nature as well as +mine, and if we follow the truth it will bring us out safe at +last.'--But so may you give these friends pain. Yes, but I +cannot sell my liberty and my power, to save their sensibility. +Besides, all persons have their moments of reason, when they +look out into the region of absolute truth; then will they +justify me and do the same thing. + +The populace think that your rejection of popular standards +is a rejection of all standard, and mere antinomianism; and +the bold sensualist will use the name of philosophy to gild +his crimes. But the law of consciousness abides. There are +two confessionals, in one or the other of which we must be +shriven. You may fulfil your round of duties by clearing +yourself in the direct, or in the reflex way. Consider +whether you have satisfied your relations to father, mother, +cousin, neighbor, town, cat, and dog; whether any of these +can upbraid you. But I may also neglect this reflex standard +and absolve me to myself. I have my own stern claims and +perfect circle. It denies the name of duty to many offices +that are called duties. But if I can discharge its debts it +enables me to dispense with the popular code. If any one +imagines that this law is lax, let him keep its commandment +one day. + +And truly it demands something godlike in him who has cast +off the common motives of humanity and has ventured to trust +himself for a taskmaster. High be his heart, faithful his +will, clear his sight, that he may in good earnest be doctrine, +society, law, to himself, that a simple purpose may be to him +as strong as iron necessity is to others! + +If any man consider the present aspects of what is called +by distinction society, he will see the need of these +ethics. The sinew and heart of man seem to be drawn out, +and we are become timorous, desponding whimperers. We are +afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death and +afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect +persons. We want men and women who shall renovate life and +our social state, but we see that most natures are insolvent, +cannot satisfy their own wants, have an ambition out of all +proportion to their practical force and do lean and beg day +and night continually. Our housekeeping is mendicant, our +arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion we have +not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlor +soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength +is born. + +If our young men miscarry in their first enterprises they +lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is +ruined. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges +and is not installed in an office within one year afterwards +in the cities or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to +his friends and to himself that he is right in being +disheartened and in complaining the rest of his life. A sturdy +lad from New Hampshire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the +professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, +preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, +and so forth, in successive years, and always like a cat falls +on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks +abreast with his days and feels no shame in not 'studying a +profession,' for he does not postpone his life, but lives +already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances. Let a +Stoic open the resources of man and tell men they are not +leaning willows, but can and must detach themselves; that with +the exercise of self-trust, new powers shall appear; that a man +is the word made flesh, born to shed healing to the nations; +that he should be ashamed of our compassion, and that the +moment he acts from himself, tossing the laws, the books, +idolatries and customs out of the window, we pity him no more +but thank and revere him;--and that teacher shall restore the +life of man to splendor and make his name dear to all history. + +It is easy to see that a greater self-reliance must work a +revolution in all the offices and relations of men; in their +religion; in their education; in their pursuits; their modes +of living; their association; in their property; in their +speculative views. + +1. In what prayers do men allow themselves! That which they +call a holy office is not so much as brave and manly. Prayer +looks abroad and asks for some foreign addition to come +through some foreign virtue, and loses itself in endless +mazes of natural and supernatural, and mediatorial and +miraculous. Prayer that craves a particular commodity, +any thing less than all good, is vicious. Prayer is the +contemplation of the facts of life from the highest point +of view. It is the soliloquy of a beholding and jubilant +soul. It is the spirit of God pronouncing his works good. +But prayer as a means to effect a private end is meanness +and theft. It supposes dualism and not unity in nature and +consciousness. As soon as the man is at one with God, he +will not beg. He will then see prayer in all action. The +prayer of the farmer kneeling in his field to weed it, the +prayer of the rower kneeling with the stroke of his oar, +are true prayers heard throughout nature, though for cheap +ends. Caratach, in Fletcher's Bonduca, when admonished to +inquire the mind of the god Audate, replies,-- + + "His hidden meaning lies in our endeavors; + Our valors are our best gods." + +Another sort of false prayers are our regrets. Discontent +is the want of self-reliance: it is infirmity of will. +Regret calamities if you can thereby help the sufferer; +if not, attend your own work and already the evil begins +to be repaired. Our sympathy is just as base. We come to +them who weep foolishly and sit down and cry for company, +instead of imparting to them truth and health in rough +electric shocks, putting them once more in communication +with their own reason. The secret of fortune is joy in our +hands. Welcome evermore to gods and men is the self-helping +man. For him all doors are flung wide; him all tongues +greet, all honors crown, all eyes follow with desire. Our +love goes out to him and embraces him because he did not +need it. We solicitously and apologetically caress and +celebrate him because he held on his way and scorned our +disapprobation. The gods love him because men hated him. +"To the persevering mortal," said Zoroaster, "the blessed +Immortals are swift." + +As men's prayers are a disease of the will, so are their +creeds a disease of the intellect. They say with those +foolish Israelites, 'Let not God speak to us, lest we die. +Speak thou, speak any man with us, and we will obey.' +Everywhere I am hindered of meeting God in my brother, +because he has shut his own temple doors and recites +fables merely of his brother's, or his brother's brother's +God. Every new mind is a new classification. If it prove a +mind of uncommon activity and power, a Locke, a Lavoisier, a +Hutton, a Bentham, a Fourier, it imposes its classification +on other men, and lo! a new system. In proportion to the +depth of the thought, and so to the number of the objects +it touches and brings within reach of the pupil, is his +complacency. But chiefly is this apparent in creeds and +churches, which are also classifications of some powerful +mind acting on the elemental thought of duty, and man's +relation to the Highest. Such is Calvinism, Quakerism, +Swedenborgism. The pupil takes the same delight in +subordinating every thing to the new terminology as a +girl who has just learned botany in seeing a new earth +and new seasons thereby. It will happen for a time that +the pupil will find his intellectual power has grown by +the study of his master's mind. But in all unbalanced +minds the classification is idolized, passes for the end +and not for a speedily exhaustible means, so that the +walls of the system blend to their eye in the remote +horizon with the walls of the universe; the luminaries +of heaven seem to them hung on the arch their master +built. They cannot imagine how you aliens have any right +to see,--how you can see; 'It must be somehow that you +stole the light from us.' They do not yet perceive that +light, unsystematic, indomitable, will break into any +cabin, even into theirs. Let them chirp awhile and call +it their own. If they are honest and do well, presently +their neat new pinfold will be too strait and low, will +crack, will lean, will rot and vanish, and the immortal +light, all young and joyful, million-orbed, million- +colored, will beam over the universe as on the first +morning. + +2. It is for want of self-culture that the superstition +of Travelling, whose idols are Italy, England, Egypt, +retains its fascination for all educated Americans. They +who made England, Italy, or Greece venerable in the +imagination did so by sticking fast where they were, like +an axis of the earth. In manly hours we feel that duty +is our place. The soul is no traveller; the wise man stays +at home, and when his necessities, his duties, on any +occasion call him from his house, or into foreign lands, +he is at home still and shall make men sensible by the +expression of his countenance that he goes, the missionary +of wisdom and virtue, and visits cities and men like a +sovereign and not like an interloper or a valet. + +I have no churlish objection to the circumnavigation of the +globe for the purposes of art, of study, and benevolence, +so that the man is first domesticated, or does not go abroad +with the hope of finding somewhat greater than he knows. He +who travels to be amused, or to get somewhat which he does +not carry, travels away from himself, and grows old even in +youth among old things. In Thebes, in Palmyra, his will and +mind have become old and dilapidated as they. He carries +ruins to ruins. + +Travelling is a fool's paradise. Our first journeys discover +to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at +Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose +my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on +the sea and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me +is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that +I fled from. I seek the Vatican and the palaces. I affect to +be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not +intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go. + +3. But the rage of travelling is a symptom of a deeper +unsoundness affecting the whole intellectual action. The +intellect is vagabond, and our system of education fosters +restlessness. Our minds travel when our bodies are forced +to stay at home. We imitate; and what is imitation but the +travelling of the mind? Our houses are built with foreign +taste; our shelves are garnished with foreign ornaments; +our opinions, our tastes, our faculties, lean, and follow +the Past and the Distant. The soul created the arts wherever +they have flourished. It was in his own mind that the artist +sought his model. It was an application of his own thought +to the thing to be done and the conditions to be observed. +And why need we copy the Doric or the Gothic model? Beauty, +convenience, grandeur of thought and quaint expression are +as near to us as to any, and if the American artist will +study with hope and love the precise thing to be done by +him, considering the climate, the soil, the length of the +day, the wants of the people, the habit and form of the +government, he will create a house in which all these will +find themselves fitted, and taste and sentiment will be +satisfied also. + +Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can +present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole +life's cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another +you have only an extemporaneous half possession. That which +each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man +yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has exhibited +it. Where is the master who could have taught Shakspeare? +Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or +Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? Every great man is a unique. +The Scipionism of Scipio is precisely that part he could not +borrow. Shakspeare will never be made by the study of +Shakspeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot +hope too much or dare too much. There is at this moment for +you an utterance brave and grand as that of the colossal +chisel of Phidias, or trowel of the Egyptians, or the pen +of Moses or Dante, but different from all these. Not possibly +will the soul, all rich, all eloquent, with thousand-cloven +tongue, deign to repeat itself; but if you can hear what +these patriarchs say, surely you can reply to them in the +same pitch of voice; for the ear and the tongue are two +organs of one nature. Abide in the simple and noble regions +of thy life, obey thy heart and thou shalt reproduce the +Foreworld again. + +4. As our Religion, our Education, our Art look abroad, so +does our spirit of society. All men plume themselves on the +improvement of society, and no man improves. + +Society never advances. It recedes as fast on one side as +it gains on the other. It undergoes continual changes; it +is barbarous, it is civilized, it is christianized, it is +rich, it is scientific; but this change is not amelioration. +For every thing that is given something is taken. Society +acquires new arts and loses old instincts. What a contrast +between the well-clad, reading, writing, thinking American, +with a watch, a pencil and a bill of exchange in his pocket, +and the naked New Zealander, whose property is a club, a +spear, a mat and an undivided twentieth of a shed to sleep +under! But compare the health of the two men and you shall +see that the white man has lost his aboriginal strength. If +the traveller tell us truly, strike the savage with a broad +axe and in a day or two the flesh shall unite and heal as if +you struck the blow into soft pitch, and the same blow shall +send the white to his grave. + +The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use +of his feet. He is supported on crutches, but lacks so much +support of muscle. He has a fine Geneva watch, but he fails +of the skill to tell the hour by the sun. A Greenwich nautical +almanac he has, and so being sure of the information when he +wants it, the man in the street does not know a star in the +sky. The solstice he does not observe; the equinox he knows +as little; and the whole bright calendar of the year is +without a dial in his mind. His note-books impair his memory; +his libraries overload his wit; the insurance-office increases +the number of accidents; and it may be a question whether +machinery does not encumber; whether we have not lost by +refinement some energy, by a Christianity entrenched in +establishments and forms some vigor of wild virtue. For +every Stoic was a Stoic; but in Christendom where is the +Christian? + +There is no more deviation in the moral standard than in +the standard of height or bulk. No greater men are now +than ever were. A singular equality may be observed between +the great men of the first and of the last ages; nor can +all the science, art, religion, and philosophy of the +nineteenth century avail to educate greater men than +Plutarch's heroes, three or four and twenty centuries ago. +Not in time is the race progressive. Phocion, Socrates, +Anaxagoras, Diogenes, are great men, but they leave no +class. He who is really of their class will not be called +by their name, but will be his own man, and in his turn the +founder of a sect. The arts and inventions of each period +are only its costume and do not invigorate men. The harm of +the improved machinery may compensate its good. Hudson and +Behring accomplished so much in their fishing-boats as to +astonish Parry and Franklin, whose equipment exhausted the +resources of science and art. Galileo, with an opera-glass, +discovered a more splendid series of celestial phenomena +than any one since. Columbus found the New World in an +undecked boat. It is curious to see the periodical disuse +and perishing of means and machinery which were introduced +with loud laudation a few years or centuries before. The +great genius returns to essential man. We reckoned the +improvements of the art of war among the triumphs of science, +and yet Napoleon conquered Europe by the bivouac, which +consisted of falling back on naked valor and disencumbering +it of all aids. The Emperor held it impossible to make a +perfect army, says Las Cases, "without abolishing our arms, +magazines, commissaries and carriages, until, in imitation +of the Roman custom, the soldier should receive his supply +of corn, grind it in his hand-mill, and bake his bread +himself." + +Society is a wave. The wave moves onward, but the water +of which it is composed does not. The same particle does +not rise from the valley to the ridge. Its unity is only +phenomenal. The persons who make up a nation to-day, next +year die, and their experience with them. + +And so the reliance on Property, including the reliance +on governments which protect it, is the want of self- +reliance. Men have looked away from themselves and at things +so long that they have come to esteem the religious, learned +and civil institutions as guards of property, and they +deprecate assaults on these, because they feel them to be +assaults on property. They measure their esteem of each other +by what each has, and not by what each is. But a cultivated +man becomes ashamed of his property, out of new respect for +his nature. Especially he hates what he has if he see that it +is accidental,--came to him by inheritance, or gift, or crime; +then he feels that it is not having; it does not belong to him, +has no root in him and merely lies there because no revolution +or no robber takes it away. But that which a man is, does +always by necessity acquire, and what the man acquires is +living property, which does not wait the beck of rulers, or +mobs, or revolutions, or fire, or storm, or bankruptcies, but +perpetually renews itself wherever the man breathes. "Thy lot +or portion of life," said the Caliph Ali, "is seeking after +thee; therefore be at rest from seeking after it." Our +dependence on these foreign goods leads us to our slavish +respect for numbers. The political parties meet in numerous +conventions; the greater the concourse and with each new +uproar of announcement, The delegation from Essex! The +Democrats from New Hampshire! The Whigs of Maine! the young +patriot feels himself stronger than before by a new thousand +of eyes and arms. In like manner the reformers summon +conventions and vote and resolve in multitude. Not so, O +friends! will the God deign to enter and inhabit you, but +by a method precisely the reverse. It is only as a man puts +off all foreign support and stands alone that I see him to +be strong and to prevail. He is weaker by every recruit to +his banner. Is not a man better than a town? Ask nothing of +men, and, in the endless mutation, thou only firm column must +presently appear the upholder of all that surrounds thee. He +who knows that power is inborn, that he is weak because he has +looked for good out of him and elsewhere, and so perceiving, +throws himself unhesitatingly on his thought, instantly rights +himself, stands in the erect position, commands his limbs, +works miracles; just as a man who stands on his feet is +stronger than a man who stands on his head. + +So use all that is called Fortune. Most men gamble with +her, and gain all, and lose all, as her wheel rolls. But +do thou leave as unlawful these winnings, and deal with +Cause and Effect, the chancellors of God. In the Will work +and acquire, and thou hast chained the wheel of Chance, and +shalt sit hereafter out of fear from her rotations. A +political victory, a rise of rents, the recovery of your sick +or the return of your absent friend, or some other favorable +event raises your spirits, and you think good days are +preparing for you. Do not believe it. Nothing can bring you +peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the +triumph of principles. + + + + +COMPENSATION. + +The wings of Time are black and white, +Pied with morning and with night. +Mountain tall and ocean deep +Trembling balance duly keep. +In changing moon, in tidal wave, +Glows the feud of Want and Have. +Gauge of more and less through space +Electric star and pencil plays. +The lonely Earth amid the balls +That hurry through the eternal halls, +A makeweight flying to the void, +Supplemental asteroid, +Or compensatory spark, +Shoots across the neutral Dark. + +Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine, +Stanch and strong the tendrils twine: +Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, +None from its stock that vine can reave. +Fear not, then, thou child infirm, +There's no god dare wrong a worm. +Laurel crowns cleave to deserts +And power to him who power exerts; +Hast not thy share? On winged feet, +Lo! it rushes thee to meet; +And all that Nature made thy own, +Floating in air or pent in stone, +Will rive the hills and swim the sea +And, like thy shadow, follow thee. + +III. +COMPENSATION. + +Ever since I was a boy I have wished to write a discourse +on Compensation; for it seemed to me when very young that +on this subject life was ahead of theology and the people +knew more than the preachers taught. The documents too +from which the doctrine is to be drawn, charmed my fancy +by their endless variety, and lay always before me, even +in sleep; for they are the tools in our hands, the bread +in our basket, the transactions of the street, the farm +and the dwelling-house; greetings, relations, debts and +credits, the influence of character, the nature and +endowment of all men. It seemed to me also that in it +might be shown men a ray of divinity, the present action of +the soul of this world, clean from all vestige of tradition; +and so the heart of man might be bathed by an inundation of +eternal love, conversing with that which he knows was always +and always must be, because it really is now. It appeared +moreover that if this doctrine could be stated in terms with +any resemblance to those bright intuitions in which this +truth is sometimes revealed to us, it would be a star in many +dark hours and crooked passages in our journey, that would +not suffer us to lose our way. + +I was lately confirmed in these desires by hearing a sermon +at church. The preacher, a man esteemed for his orthodoxy, +unfolded in the ordinary manner the doctrine of the Last +Judgment. He assumed that judgment is not executed in this +world; that the wicked are successful; that the good are +miserable; and then urged from reason and from Scripture a +compensation to be made to both parties in the next life. +No offence appeared to be taken by the congregation at this +doctrine. As far as I could observe when the meeting broke +up they separated without remark on the sermon. + +Yet what was the import of this teaching? What did the +preacher mean by saying that the good are miserable in +the present life? Was it that houses and lands, offices, +wine, horses, dress, luxury, are had by unprincipled men, +whilst the saints are poor and despised; and that a +compensation is to be made to these last hereafter, by +giving them the like gratifications another day,--bank- +stock and doubloons, venison and champagne? This must be +the compensation intended; for what else? Is it that they +are to have leave to pray and praise? to love and serve +men? Why, that they can do now. The legitimate inference +the disciple would draw was,--'We are to have such a good +time as the sinners have now';--or, to push it to its +extreme import,--'You sin now; we shall sin by and by; we +would sin now, if we could; not being successful, we +expect our revenge to-morrow.' + +The fallacy lay in the immense concession that the bad are +successful; that justice is not done now. The blindness of +the preacher consisted in deferring to the base estimate +of the market of what constitutes a manly success, instead +of confronting and convicting the world from the truth; +announcing the presence of the soul; the omnipotence of +the will; and so establishing the standard of good and +ill, of success and falsehood. + +I find a similar base tone in the popular religious works +of the day and the same doctrines assumed by the literary +men when occasionally they treat the related topics. I +think that our popular theology has gained in decorum, and +not in principle, over the superstitions it has displaced. +But men are better than their theology. Their daily life +gives it the lie. Every ingenuous and aspiring soul leaves +the doctrine behind him in his own experience, and all men +feel sometimes the falsehood which they cannot demonstrate. +For men are wiser than they know. That which they hear in +schools and pulpits without afterthought, if said in +conversation would probably be questioned in silence. If a +man dogmatize in a mixed company on Providence and the +divine laws, he is answered by a silence which conveys well +enough to an observer the dissatisfaction of the hearer, but +his incapacity to make his own statement. + +I shall attempt in this and the following chapter to record +some facts that indicate the path of the law of Compensation; +happy beyond my expectation if I shall truly draw the +smallest arc of this circle. + +POLARITY, or action and reaction, we meet in every part +of nature; in darkness and light; in heat and cold; in +the ebb and flow of waters; in male and female; in the +inspiration and expiration of plants and animals; in the +equation of quantity and quality in the fluids of the +animal body; in the systole and diastole of the heart; +in the undulations of fluids, and of sound; in the +centrifugal and centripetal gravity; in electricity, +galvanism, and chemical affinity. Superinduce magnetism +at one end of a needle, the opposite magnetism takes +place at the other end. If the south attracts, the north +repels. To empty here, you must condense there. An +inevitable dualism bisects nature, so that each thing +is a half, and suggests another thing to make it whole; +as, spirit, matter; man, woman; odd, even; subjective, +objective; in, out; upper, under; motion, rest; yea, nay. + +Whilst the world is thus dual, so is every one of its parts. +The entire system of things gets represented in every particle. +There is somewhat that resembles the ebb and flow of the sea, +day and night, man and woman, in a single needle of the pine, +in a kernel of corn, in each individual of every animal tribe. +The reaction, so grand in the elements, is repeated within +these small boundaries. For example, in the animal kingdom +the physiologist has observed that no creatures are favorites, +but a certain compensation balances every gift and every defect. +A surplusage given to one part is paid out of a reduction from +another part of the same creature. If the head and neck are +enlarged, the trunk and extremities are cut short. + +The theory of the mechanic forces is another example. What +we gain in power is lost in time, and the converse. The +periodic or compensating errors of the planets is another +instance. The influences of climate and soil in political +history are another. The cold climate invigorates. The +barren soil does not breed fevers, crocodiles, tigers or +scorpions. + +The same dualism underlies the nature and condition of man. +Every excess causes a defect; every defect an excess. Every +sweet hath its sour; every evil its good. Every faculty +which is a receiver of pleasure has an equal penalty put on +its abuse. It is to answer for its moderation with its life. +For every grain of wit there is a grain of folly. For every +thing you have missed, you have gained something else; and +for every thing you gain, you lose something. If riches +increase, they are increased that use them. If the gatherer +gathers too much, Nature takes out of the man what she puts +into his chest; swells the estate, but kills the owner. +Nature hates monopolies and exceptions. The waves of the sea +do not more speedily seek a level from their loftiest tossing +than the varieties of condition tend to equalize themselves. +There is always some levelling circumstance that puts down +the overbearing, the strong, the rich, the fortunate, +substantially on the same ground with all others. Is a man +too strong and fierce for society and by temper and position +a bad citizen,--a morose ruffian, with a dash of the pirate +in him?--Nature sends him a troop of pretty sons and daughters +who are getting along in the dame's classes at the village +school, and love and fear for them smooths his grim scowl to +courtesy. Thus she contrives to intenerate the granite and +felspar, takes the boar out and puts the lamb in and keeps +her balance true. + +The farmer imagines power and place are fine things. But +the President has paid dear for his White House. It has +commonly cost him all his peace, and the best of his manly +attributes. To preserve for a short time so conspicuous an +appearance before the world, he is content to eat dust +before the real masters who stand erect behind the throne. +Or, do men desire the more substantial and permanent +grandeur of genius? Neither has this an immunity. He who +by force of will or of thought is great and overlooks +thousands, has the charges of that eminence. With every +influx of light comes new danger. Has he light? he must +bear witness to the light, and always outrun that sympathy +which gives him such keen satisfaction, by his fidelity to +new revelations of the incessant soul. He must hate father +and mother, wife and child. Has he all that the world loves +and admires and covets?--he must cast behind him their +admiration, and afflict them by faithfulness to his truth, +and become a byword and a hissing. + +This law writes the laws of cities and nations. It is in +vain to build or plot or combine against it. Things refuse +to be mismanaged long. Res nolunt diu male administrari. +Though no checks to a new evil appear, the checks exist, +and will appear. If the government is cruel, the governor's +life is not safe. If you tax too high, the revenue will +yield nothing. If you make the criminal code sanguinary, +juries will not convict. If the law is too mild, private +vengeance comes in. If the government is a terrific democracy, +the pressure is resisted by an over-charge of energy in the +citizen, and life glows with a fiercer flame. The true life +and satisfactions of man seem to elude the utmost rigors or +felicities of condition and to establish themselves with +great indifferency under all varieties of circumstances. +Under all governments the influence of character remains +the same,--in Turkey and in New England about alike. Under +the primeval despots of Egypt, history honestly confesses +that man must have been as free as culture could make him. + +These appearances indicate the fact that the universe is +represented in every one of its particles. Every thing in +nature contains all the powers of nature. Every thing is +made of one hidden stuff; as the naturalist sees one type +under every metamorphosis, and regards a horse as a running +man, a fish as a swimming man, a bird as a flying man, a +tree as a rooted man. Each new form repeats not only the +main character of the type, but part for part all the +details, all the aims, furtherances, hindrances, energies +and whole system of every other. Every occupation, trade, +art, transaction, is a compend of the world and a +correlative of every other. Each one is an entire emblem of +human life; of its good and ill, its trials, its enemies, +its course and its end. And each one must somehow accommodate +the whole man and recite all his destiny. + +The world globes itself in a drop of dew. The microscope +cannot find the animalcule which is less perfect for being +little. Eyes, ears, taste, smell, motion, resistance, +appetite, and organs of reproduction that take hold on +eternity,--all find room to consist in the small creature. +So do we put our life into every act. The true doctrine of +omnipresence is that God reappears with all his parts in +every moss and cobweb. The value of the universe contrives +to throw itself into every point. If the good is there, so +is the evil; if the affinity, so the repulsion; if the +force, so the limitation. + +Thus is the universe alive. All things are moral. That soul +which within us is a sentiment, outside of us is a law. We +feel its inspiration; out there in history we can see its +fatal strength. "It is in the world, and the world was made +by it." Justice is not postponed. A perfect equity adjusts +its balance in all parts of life. Hoi kuboi Dios aei +eupiptousi,--The dice of God are always loaded. The world +looks like a multiplication-table, or a mathematical equation, +which, turn it how you will, balances itself. Take what +figure you will, its exact value, nor more nor less, still +returns to you. Every secret is told, every crime is punished, +every virtue rewarded, every wrong redressed, in silence and +certainty. What we call retribution is the universal necessity +by which the whole appears wherever a part appears. If you see +smoke, there must be fire. If you see a hand or a limb, you +know that the trunk to which it belongs is there behind. + +Every act rewards itself, or, in other words integrates +itself, in a twofold manner; first in the thing, or in +real nature; and secondly in the circumstance, or in +apparent nature. Men call the circumstance the retribution. +The causal retribution is in the thing and is seen by the +soul. The retribution in the circumstance is seen by the +understanding; it is inseparable from the thing, but is +often spread over a long time and so does not become +distinct until after many years. The specific stripes may +follow late after the offence, but they follow because +they accompany it. Crime and punishment grow out of one +stem. Punishment is a fruit that unsuspected ripens within +the flower of the pleasure which concealed it. Cause and +effect, means and ends, seed and fruit, cannot be severed; +for the effect already blooms in the cause, the end +preexists in the means, the fruit in the seed. + +Whilst thus the world will be whole and refuses to be +disparted, we seek to act partially, to sunder, to +appropriate; for example,--to gratify the senses we sever +the pleasure of the senses from the needs of the character. +The ingenuity of man has always been dedicated to the +solution of one problem,--how to detach the sensual sweet, +the sensual strong, the sensual bright, etc., from the +moral sweet, the moral deep, the moral fair; that is, again, +to contrive to cut clean off this upper surface so thin as +to leave it bottomless; to get a one end, without an other +end. The soul says, 'Eat;' the body would feast. The soul +says, 'The man and woman shall be one flesh and one soul;' +the body would join the flesh only. The soul says, 'Have +dominion over all things to the ends of virtue;' the body +would have the power over things to its own ends. + +The soul strives amain to live and work through all things. +It would be the only fact. All things shall be added unto +it,--power, pleasure, knowledge, beauty. The particular +man aims to be somebody; to set up for himself; to truck +and higgle for a private good; and, in particulars, to ride +that he may ride; to dress that he may be dressed; to eat +that he may eat; and to govern, that he may be seen. Men +seek to be great; they would have offices, wealth, power, +and fame. They think that to be great is to possess one side +of nature,--the sweet, without the other side, the bitter. + +This dividing and detaching is steadily counteracted. Up +to this day it must be owned no projector has had the +smallest success. The parted water reunites behind our +hand. Pleasure is taken out of pleasant things, profit +out of profitable things, power out of strong things, as +soon as we seek to separate them from the whole. We can +no more halve things and get the sensual good, by itself, +than we can get an inside that shall have no outside, or +a light without a shadow. "Drive out Nature with a fork, +she comes running back." + +Life invests itself with inevitable conditions, which +the unwise seek to dodge, which one and another brags +that he does not know, that they do not touch him;--but +the brag is on his lips, the conditions are in his soul. +If he escapes them in one part they attack him in another +more vital part. If he has escaped them in form and in +the appearance, it is because he has resisted his life +and fled from himself, and the retribution is so much +death. So signal is the failure of all attempts to make +this separation of the good from the tax, that the +experiment would not be tried,--since to try it is to be +mad,--but for the circumstance, that when the disease +began in the will, of rebellion and separation, the +intellect is at once infected, so that the man ceases to +see God whole in each object, but is able to see the +sensual allurement of an object and not see the sensual +hurt; he sees the mermaid's head but not the dragon's +tail, and thinks he can cut off that which he would have +from that which he would not have. "How secret art thou +who dwellest in the highest heavens in silence, O thou +only great God, sprinkling with an unwearied providence +certain penal blindnesses upon such as have unbridled +desires!"1 + +1 St. Augustine, Confessions, B. I. + +The human soul is true to these facts in the painting of +fable, of history, of law, of proverbs, of conversation. +It finds a tongue in literature unawares. Thus the Greeks +called Jupiter, Supreme Mind; but having traditionally +ascribed to him many base actions, they involuntarily made +amends to reason by tying up the hands of so bad a god. He +is made as helpless as a king of England. Prometheus knows +one secret which Jove must bargain for; Minerva, another. +He cannot get his own thunders; Minerva keeps the key of +them:-- + +"Of all the gods, I only know the keys + That ope the solid doors within whose vaults + His thunders sleep." + +A plain confession of the in-working of the All and of +its moral aim. The Indian mythology ends in the same +ethics; and it would seem impossible for any fable to be +invented and get any currency which was not moral. Aurora +forgot to ask youth for her lover, and though Tithonus is +immortal, he is old. Achilles is not quite invulnerable; +the sacred waters did not wash the heel by which Thetis +held him. Siegfried, in the Nibelungen, is not quite +immortal, for a leaf fell on his back whilst he was +bathing in the dragon's blood, and that spot which it +covered is mortal. And so it must be. There is a crack +in every thing God has made. It would seem there is always +this vindictive circumstance stealing in at unawares even +into the wild poesy in which the human fancy attempted to +make bold holiday and to shake itself free of the old laws, +--this back-stroke, this kick of the gun, certifying that +the law is fatal; that in nature nothing can be given, all +things are sold. + +This is that ancient doctrine of Nemesis, who keeps watch +in the universe and lets no offence go unchastised. The +Furies they said are attendants on justice, and if the sun +in heaven should transgress his path they would punish him. +The poets related that stone walls and iron swords and +leathern thongs had an occult sympathy with the wrongs of +their owners; that the belt which Ajax gave Hector dragged +the Trojan hero over the field at the wheels of the car of +Achilles, and the sword which Hector gave Ajax was that on +whose point Ajax fell. They recorded that when the Thasians +erected a statue to Theagenes, a victor in the games, one +of his rivals went to it by night and endeavored to throw +it down by repeated blows, until at last he moved it from +its pedestal and was crushed to death beneath its fall. + +This voice of fable has in it somewhat divine. It came +from thought above the will of the writer. That is the +best part of each writer which has nothing private in +it; that which he does not know; that which flowed out +of his constitution and not from his too active invention; +that which in the study of a single artist you might not +easily find, but in the study of many you would abstract +as the spirit of them all. Phidias it is not, but the +work of man in that early Hellenic world that I would know. +The name and circumstance of Phidias, however convenient +for history, embarrass when we come to the highest +criticism. We are to see that which man was tending to do +in a given period, and was hindered, or, if you will, +modified in doing, by the interfering volitions of Phidias, +of Dante, of Shakspeare, the organ whereby man at the moment +wrought. + +Still more striking is the expression of this fact in the +proverbs of all nations, which are always the literature +of reason, or the statements of an absolute truth without +qualification. Proverbs, like the sacred books of each +nation, are the sanctuary of the intuitions. That which +the droning world, chained to appearances, will not allow +the realist to say in his own words, it will suffer him to +say in proverbs without contradiction. And this law of laws, +which the pulpit, the senate and the college deny, is hourly +preached in all markets and workshops by flights of proverbs, +whose teaching is as true and as omnipresent as that of birds +and flies. + +All things are double, one against another.--Tit for tat; +an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth; blood for blood; +measure for measure; love for love.--Give and it shall be +given you.--He that watereth shall be watered himself.-- +What will you have? quoth God; pay for it and take it.-- +Nothing venture, nothing have.--Thou shalt be paid exactly +for what thou hast done, no more, no less.--Who doth not +work shall not eat.--Harm watch, harm catch. --Curses always +recoil on the head of him who imprecates them.--If you put +a chain around the neck of a slave, the other end fastens +itself around your own.--Bad counsel confounds the adviser. +--The Devil is an ass. + +It is thus written, because it is thus in life. Our action +is overmastered and characterized above our will by the law +of nature. We aim at a petty end quite aside from the public +good, but our act arranges itself by irresistible magnetism +in a line with the poles of the world. + +A man cannot speak but he judges himself. With his will +or against his will he draws his portrait to the eye of +his companions by every word. Every opinion reacts on him +who utters it. It is a thread-ball thrown at a mark, but +the other end remains in the thrower's bag. Or rather it +is a harpoon hurled at the whale, unwinding, as it flies, +a coil of cord in the boat, and, if the harpoon is not +good, or not well thrown, it will go nigh to cut the +steersman in twain or to sink the boat. + +You cannot do wrong without suffering wrong. "No man had +ever a point of pride that was not injurious to him," said +Burke. The exclusive in fashionable life does not see that +he excludes himself from enjoyment, in the attempt to +appropriate it. The exclusionist in religion does not see +that he shuts the door of heaven on himself, in striving +to shut out others. Treat men as pawns and ninepins and you +shall suffer as well as they. If you leave out their heart, +you shall lose your own. The senses would make things of all +persons; of women, of children, of the poor. The vulgar +proverb, "I will get it from his purse or get it from his +skin," is sound philosophy. + +All infractions of love and equity in our social relations +are speedily punished. They are punished by fear. Whilst +I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no +displeasure in meeting him. We meet as water meets water, +or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and +interpenetration of nature. But as soon as there is any +departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good +for me that is not good for him, my neighbor feels the wrong; +he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his +eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is +hate in him and fear in me. + +All the old abuses in society, universal and particular, +all unjust accumulations of property and power, are avenged +in the same manner. Fear is an instructor of great sagacity +and the herald of all revolutions. One thing he teaches, +that there is rottenness where he appears. He is a carrion +crow, and though you see not well what he hovers for, there +is death somewhere. Our property is timid, our laws are +timid, our cultivated classes are timid. Fear for ages has +boded and mowed and gibbered over government and property. +That obscene bird is not there for nothing. He indicates +great wrongs which must be revised. + +Of the like nature is that expectation of change which +instantly follows the suspension of our voluntary activity. +The terror of cloudless noon, the emerald of Polycrates, +the awe of prosperity, the instinct which leads every +generous soul to impose on itself tasks of a noble +asceticism and vicarious virtue, are the tremblings of +the balance of justice through the heart and mind of man. + +Experienced men of the world know very well that it is +best to pay scot and lot as they go along, and that a +man often pays dear for a small frugality. The borrower +runs in his own debt. Has a man gained any thing who has +received a hundred favors and rendered none? Has he gained +by borrowing, through indolence or cunning, his neighbor's +wares, or horses, or money? There arises on the deed the +instant acknowledgment of benefit on the one part and of +debt on the other; that is, of superiority and inferiority. +The transaction remains in the memory of himself and his +neighbor; and every new transaction alters according to +its nature their relation to each other. He may soon come +to see that he had better have broken his own bones than +to have ridden in his neighbor's coach, and that "the +highest price he can pay for a thing is to ask for it." + +A wise man will extend this lesson to all parts of life, +and know that it is the part of prudence to face every +claimant and pay every just demand on your time, your +talents, or your heart. Always pay; for first or last +you must pay your entire debt. Persons and events may +stand for a time between you and justice, but it is only +a postponement. You must pay at last your own debt. If +you are wise you will dread a prosperity which only loads +you with more. Benefit is the end of nature. But for every +benefit which you receive, a tax is levied. He is great +who confers the most benefits. He is base,--and that is +the one base thing in the universe,--to receive favors +and render none. In the order of nature we cannot render +benefits to those from whom we receive them, or only seldom. +But the benefit we receive must be rendered again, line for +line, deed for deed, cent for cent, to somebody. Beware of +too much good staying in your hand. It will fast corrupt and +worm worms. Pay it away quickly in some sort. + +Labor is watched over by the same pitiless laws. Cheapest, +say the prudent, is the dearest labor. What we buy in a +broom, a mat, a wagon, a knife, is some application of +good sense to a common want. It is best to pay in your +land a skilful gardener, or to buy good sense applied to +gardening; in your sailor, good sense applied to navigation; +in the house, good sense applied to cooking, sewing, serving; +in your agent, good sense applied to accounts and affairs. +So do you multiply your presence, or spread yourself throughout +your estate. But because of the dual constitution of things, +in labor as in life there can be no cheating. The thief steals +from himself. The swindler swindles himself. For the real price +of labor is knowledge and virtue, whereof wealth and credit are +signs. These signs, like paper money, may be counterfeited or +stolen, but that which they represent, namely, knowledge and +virtue, cannot be counterfeited or stolen. These ends of labor +cannot be answered but by real exertions of the mind, and in +obedience to pure motives. The cheat, the defaulter, the +gambler, cannot extort the knowledge of material and moral +nature which his honest care and pains yield to the operative. +The law of nature is, Do the thing, and you shall have the +Power; but they who do not the thing have not the power. + +Human labor, through all its forms, from the sharpening +of a stake to the construction of a city or an epic, is +one immense illustration of the perfect compensation of +the universe. The absolute balance of Give and Take, the +doctrine that every thing has its price,--and if that +price is not paid, not that thing but something else is +obtained, and that it is impossible to get any thing +without its price,--is not less sublime in the columns +of a leger than in the budgets of states, in the laws of +light and darkness, in all the action and reaction of +nature. I cannot doubt that the high laws which each man +sees implicated in those processes with which he is +conversant, the stern ethics which sparkle on his chisel- +edge, which are measured out by his plumb and foot-rule, +which stand as manifest in the footing of the shop-bill +as in the history of a state,--do recommend to him his +trade, and though seldom named, exalt his business to his +imagination. + +The league between virtue and nature engages all things +to assume a hostile front to vice. The beautiful laws and +substances of the world persecute and whip the traitor. +He finds that things are arranged for truth and benefit, +but there is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue. +Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. Commit a +crime, and it seems as if a coat of snow fell on the ground, +such as reveals in the woods the track of every partridge +and fox and squirrel and mole. You cannot recall the spoken +word, you cannot wipe out the foot-track, you cannot draw +up the ladder, so as to leave no inlet or clew. Some +damning circumstance always transpires. The laws and +substances of nature,--water, snow, wind, gravitation,-- +become penalties to the thief. + +On the other hand the law holds with equal sureness for +all right action. Love, and you shall be loved. All love +is mathematically just, as much as the two sides of an +algebraic equation. The good man has absolute good, which +like fire turns every thing to its own nature, so that you +cannot do him any harm; but as the royal armies sent against +Napoleon, when he approached cast down their colors and from +enemies became friends, so disasters of all kinds, as +sickness, offence, poverty, prove benefactors:-- + + "Winds blow and waters roll + Strength to the brave, and power and deity, + Yet in themselves are nothing." + +The good are befriended even by weakness and defect. As no +man had ever a point of pride that was not injurious to him, +so no man had ever a defect that was not somewhere made +useful to him. The stag in the fable admired his horns and +blamed his feet, but when the hunter came, his feet saved +him, and afterwards, caught in the thicket, his horns +destroyed him. Every man in his lifetime needs to thank his +faults. As no man thoroughly understands a truth until he +has contended against it, so no man has a thorough acquaintance +with the hindrances or talents of men until he has suffered +from the one and seen the triumph of the other over his own +want of the same. Has he a defect of temper that unfits him +to live in society? Thereby he is driven to entertain himself +alone and acquire habits of self-help; and thus, like the +wounded oyster, he mends his shell with pearl. + +Our strength grows out of our weakness. The indignation +which arms itself with secret forces does not awaken +until we are pricked and stung and sorely assailed. A +great man is always willing to be little. Whilst he sits +on the cushion of advantages, he goes to sleep. When he +is pushed, tormented, defeated, he has a chance to learn +something; he has been put on his wits, on his manhood; +he has gained facts; learns his ignorance; is cured of +the insanity of conceit; has got moderation and real +skill. The wise man throws himself on the side of his +assailants. It is more his interest than it is theirs +to find his weak point. The wound cicatrizes and falls +off from him like a dead skin and when they would triumph, +lo! he has passed on invulnerable. Blame is safer than +praise. I hate to be defended in a newspaper. As long as +all that is said is said against me, I feel a certain +assurance of success. But as soon as honeyed words of +praise are spoken for me I feel as one that lies +unprotected before his enemies. In general, every evil +to which we do not succumb is a benefactor. As the Sandwich +Islander believes that the strength and valor of the enemy +he kills passes into himself, so we gain the strength of the +temptation we resist. + +The same guards which protect us from disaster, defect, +and enmity, defend us, if we will, from selfishness and +fraud. Bolts and bars are not the best of our institutions, +nor is shrewdness in trade a mark of wisdom. Men suffer +all their life long under the foolish superstition that +they can be cheated. But it is as impossible for a man +to be cheated by any one but himself, as for a thing to +be and not to be at the same time. There is a third silent +party to all our bargains. The nature and soul of things +takes on itself the guaranty of the fulfilment of every +contract, so that honest service cannot come to loss. If +you serve an ungrateful master, serve him the more. Put +God in your debt. Every stroke shall be repaid. The longer +The payment is withholden, the better for you; for compound +interest on compound interest is the rate and usage of this +exchequer. + +The history of persecution is a history of endeavors to +cheat nature, to make water run up hill, to twist a rope +of sand. It makes no difference whether the actors be many +or one, a tyrant or a mob. A mob is a society of bodies +voluntarily bereaving themselves of reason and traversing +its work. The mob is man voluntarily descending to the +nature of the beast. Its fit hour of activity is night. +Its actions are insane like its whole constitution. It +persecutes a principle; it would whip a right; it would +tar and feather justice, by inflicting fire and outrage +upon the houses and persons of those who have these. It +resembles the prank of boys, who run with fire-engines to +put out the ruddy aurora streaming to the stars. The +inviolate spirit turns their spite against the wrongdoers. +The martyr cannot be dishonored. Every lash inflicted is a +tongue of fame; every prison, a more illustrious abode; +every burned book or house enlightens the world; every +suppressed or expunged word reverberates through the earth +from side to side. Hours of sanity and consideration are +always arriving to communities, as to individuals, when the +truth is seen and the martyrs are justified. + +Thus do all things preach the indifferency of circumstances. +The man is all. Every thing has two sides, a good and an +evil. Every advantage has its tax. I learn to be content. +But the doctrine of compensation is not the doctrine of +indifferency. The thoughtless say, on hearing these +representations,--What boots it to do well? there is one +event to good and evil; if I gain any good I must pay for +it; if I lose any good I gain some other; all actions are +indifferent. + +There is a deeper fact in the soul than compensation, to +wit, its own nature. The soul is not a compensation, but +a life. The soul is. Under all this running sea of +circumstance, whose waters ebb and flow with perfect +balance, lies the aboriginal abyss of real Being. Essence, +or God, is not a relation or a part, but the whole. Being +is the vast affirmative, excluding negation, self-balanced, +and swallowing up all relations, parts and times within +itself. Nature, truth, virtue, are the influx from thence. +Vice is the absence or departure of the same. Nothing, +Falsehood, may indeed stand as the great Night or shade on +which as a background the living universe paints itself +forth, but no fact is begotten by it; it cannot work, for +it is not. It cannot work any good; it cannot work any harm. +It is harm inasmuch as it is worse not to be than to be. + +We feel defrauded of the retribution due to evil acts, +because the criminal adheres to his vice and contumacy +and does not come to a crisis or judgment anywhere in +visible nature. There is no stunning confutation of his +nonsense before men and angels. Has he therefore outwitted +the law? Inasmuch as he carries the malignity and the lie +with him he so far deceases from nature. In some manner +there will be a demonstration of the wrong to the +understanding also; but, should we not see it, this deadly +deduction makes square the eternal account. + +Neither can it be said, on the other hand, that the gain +of rectitude must be bought by any loss. There is no +penalty to virtue; no penalty to wisdom; they are proper +additions of being. In a virtuous action I properly am; +in a virtuous act I add to the world; I plant into deserts +conquered from Chaos and Nothing and see the darkness +receding on the limits of the horizon. There can be no +excess to love, none to knowledge, none to beauty, when +these attributes are considered in the purest sense. The +soul refuses limits, and always affirms an Optimism, never +a Pessimism. + +His life is a progress, and not a station. His instinct is +trust. Our instinct uses "more" and "less" in application +to man, of the presence of the soul, and not of its absence, +the brave man is greater than the coward; the true, the +benevolent, the wise, is more a man and not less, than the +fool and knave. There is no tax on the good of virtue, for +that is the incoming of God himself, or absolute existence, +without any comparative. Material good has its tax, and if +it came without desert or sweat, has no root in me, and the +next wind will blow it away. But all the good of nature is +the soul's, and may be had if paid for in nature's lawful +coin, that is, by labor which the heart and the head allow. +I no longer wish to meet a good I do not earn, for example +to find a pot of buried gold, knowing that it brings with it +new burdens. I do not wish more external goods,--neither +possessions, nor honors, nor powers, nor persons. The gain +is apparent; the tax is certain. But there is no tax on the +knowledge that the compensation exists and that it is not +desirable to dig up treasure. Herein I rejoice with a serene +eternal peace. I contract the boundaries of possible mischief. +I learn the wisdom of St. Bernard,--"Nothing can work me +damage except myself; the harm that I sustain I carry about +with me, and never am a real sufferer but by my own fault." + +In the nature of the soul is the compensation for the +inequalities of condition. The radical tragedy of nature +seems to be the distinction of More and Less. How can +Less not feel the pain; how not feel indignation or +malevolence towards More? Look at those who have less +faculty, and one feels sad and knows not well what to +make of it. He almost shuns their eye; he fears they will +upbraid God. What should they do? It seems a great injustice. +But see the facts nearly and these mountainous inequalities +vanish. Love reduces them as the sun melts the iceberg in +the sea. The heart and soul of all men being one, this +bitterness of His and Mine ceases. His is mine. I am my +brother and my brother is me. If I feel overshadowed and +outdone by great neighbors, I can yet love; I can still +receive; and he that loveth maketh his own the grandeur +he loves. Thereby I make the discovery that my brother is +my guardian, acting for me with the friendliest designs, +and the estate I so admired and envied is my own. It is +the nature of the soul to appropriate all things. Jesus +and Shakspeare are fragments of the soul, and by love I +conquer and incorporate them in my own conscious domain. +His virtue,--is not that mine? His wit,--if it cannot be +made mine, it is not wit. + +Such also is the natural history of calamity. The changes +which break up at short intervals the prosperity of men +are advertisements of a nature whose law is growth. Every +soul is by this intrinsic necessity quitting its whole +system of things, its friends and home and laws and faith, +as the shell-fish crawls out of its beautiful but stony +case, because it no longer admits of its growth, and slowly +forms a new house. In proportion to the vigor of the +individual these revolutions are frequent, until in some +happier mind they are incessant and all worldly relations +hang very loosely about him, becoming as it were a +transparent fluid membrane through which the living form +is seen, and not, as in most men, an indurated heterogeneous +fabric of many dates and of no settled character, in which +the man is imprisoned. Then there can be enlargement, and +the man of to-day scarcely recognizes the man of yesterday. +And such should be the outward biography of man in time, a +putting off of dead circumstances day by day, as he renews +his raiment day by day. But to us, in our lapsed estate, +resting, not advancing, resisting, not cooperating with the +divine expansion, this growth comes by shocks. + +We cannot part with our friends. We cannot let our angels +go. We do not see that they only go out that archangels +may come in. We are idolaters of the old. We do not believe +in the riches of the soul, in its proper eternity and +omnipresence. We do not believe there is any force in +to-day to rival or recreate that beautiful yesterday. We +linger in the ruins of the old tent where once we had bread +and shelter and organs, nor believe that the spirit can +feed, cover, and nerve us again. We cannot again find aught +so dear, so sweet, so graceful. But we sit and weep in vain. +The voice of the Almighty saith, 'Up and onward for evermore!' +We cannot stay amid the ruins. Neither will we rely on the +new; and so we walk ever with reverted eyes, like those +monsters who look backwards. + +And yet the compensations of calamity are made apparent +to the understanding also, after long intervals of time. +A fever, a mutilation, a cruel disappointment, a loss of +wealth, a loss of friends, seems at the moment unpaid +loss, and unpayable. But the sure years reveal the deep +remedial force that underlies all facts. The death of a +dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing +but privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a +guide or genius; for it commonly operates revolutions in +our way of life, terminates an epoch of infancy or of +youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks up a wonted +occupation, or a household, or style of living, and allows +the formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of +character. It permits or constrains the formation of new +acquaintances and the reception of new influences that +prove of the first importance to the next years; and the +man or woman who would have remained a sunny garden-flower, +with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its +head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the +gardener is made the banian of the forest, yielding shade +and fruit to wide neighborhoods of men. + + + + +SPIRITUAL LAWS. + +The living Heaven thy prayers respect, +House at once and architect, +Quarrying man's rejected hours, +Builds therewith eternal towers; +Sole and self-commanded works, +Fears not undermining days, +Grows by decays, +And, by the famous might that lurks +In reaction and recoil, +Makes flame to freeze, and ice to boil; +Forging, through swart arms of Offence, +The silver seat of Innocence. + +IV +SPIRITUAL LAWS. + +When the act of reflection takes place in the mind, +when we look at ourselves in the light of thought, we +discover that our life is embosomed in beauty. Behind +us, as we go, all things assume pleasing forms, as +clouds do far off. Not only things familiar and stale, +but even the tragic and terrible are comely as they +take their place in the pictures of memory. The river- +bank, the weed at the water-side, the old house, the +foolish person, however neglected in the passing, have +a grace in the past. Even the corpse that has lain in +the chambers has added a solemn ornament to the house. +The soul will not know either deformity or pain. If in +the hours of clear reason we should speak the severest +truth, we should say that we had never made a sacrifice. +In these hours the mind seems so great that nothing can +be taken from us that seems much. All loss, all pain, is +particular; the universe remains to the heart unhurt. +Neither vexations nor calamities abate our trust. No man +ever stated his griefs as lightly as he might. Allow for +exaggeration in the most patient and sorely ridden hack +that ever was driven. For it is only the finite that has +wrought and suffered; the infinite lies stretched in +smiling repose. + +The intellectual life may be kept clean and healthful if +man will live the life of nature and not import into his +mind difficulties which are none of his. No man need be +perplexed in his speculations. Let him do and say what +strictly belongs to him, and though very ignorant of +books, his nature shall not yield him any intellectual +obstructions and doubts. Our young people are diseased +with the theological problems of original sin, origin of +evil, predestination and the like. These never presented +a practical difficulty to any man,--never darkened across +any man's road who did not go out of his way to seek them. +These are the soul's mumps and measles and whooping-coughs, +and those who have not caught them cannot describe their +health or prescribe the cure. A simple mind will not know +these enemies. It is quite another thing that he should be +able to give account of his faith and expound to another +the theory of his self-union and freedom. This requires +rare gifts. Yet without this self-knowledge there may be +a sylvan strength and integrity in that which he is. "A +few strong instincts and a few plain rules" suffice us. + +My will never gave the images in my mind the rank they +now take. The regular course of studies, the years of +academical and professional education have not yielded +me better facts than some idle books under the bench at +the Latin School. What we do not call education is more +precious than that which we call so. We form no guess, +at the time of receiving a thought, of its comparative +value. And education often wastes its effort in attempts +to thwart and balk this natural magnetism, which is sure +to select what belongs to it. + +In like manner our moral nature is vitiated by any +interference of our will. People represent virtue as a +struggle, and take to themselves great airs upon their +attainments, and the question is everywhere vexed when +a noble nature is commended, whether the man is not +better who strives with temptation. But there is no +merit in the matter. Either God is there or he is not +there. We love characters in proportion as they are +impulsive and spontaneous. The less a man thinks or +knows about his virtues the better we like him. +Timoleon's victories are the best victories, which ran +and flowed like Homer's verses, Plutarch said. When we +see a soul whose acts are all regal, graceful and pleasant +as roses, we must thank God that such things can be and +are, and not turn sourly on the angel and say 'Crump is +a better man with his grunting resistance to all his +native devils.' + +Not less conspicuous is the preponderance of nature over +will in all practical life. There is less intention in +history than we ascribe to it. We impute deep-laid far- +sighted plans to Caesar and Napoleon; but the best of +their power was in nature, not in them. Men of an +extraordinary success, in their honest moments, have +always sung, 'Not unto us, not unto us.' According to +the faith of their times they have built altars to +Fortune, or to Destiny, or to St. Julian. Their success +lay in their parallelism to the course of thought, which +found in them an unobstructed channel; and the wonders +of which they were the visible conductors seemed to the +eye their deed. Did the wires generate the galvanism? It +is even true that there was less in them on which they +could reflect than in another; as the virtue of a pipe +is to be smooth and hollow. That which externally seemed +will and immovableness was willingness and self-annihilation. +Could Shakspeare give a theory of Shakspeare? Could ever a +man of prodigious mathematical genius convey to others any +insight into his methods? If he could communicate that +secret it would instantly lose its exaggerated value, +blending with the daylight and the vital energy the +power to stand and to go. + +The lesson is forcibly taught by these observations that +our life might be much easier and simpler than we make +it; that the world might be a happier place than it is; +that there is no need of struggles, convulsions, and +despairs, of the wringing of the hands and the gnashing +of the teeth; that we miscreate our own evils. We interfere +with the optimism of nature; for whenever we get this +vantage-ground of the past, or of a wiser mind in the +present, we are able to discern that we are begirt with +laws which execute themselves. + +The face of external nature teaches the same lesson. +Nature will not have us fret and fume. She does not +like our benevolence or our learning much better than +she likes our frauds and wars. When we come out of the +caucus, or the bank, or the Abolition-convention, or +the Temperance-meeting, or the Transcendental club into +the fields and woods, she says to us, 'So hot? my little +Sir.' + +We are full of mechanical actions. We must needs +intermeddle and have things in our own way, until the +sacrifices and virtues of society are odious. Love +should make joy; but our benevolence is unhappy. Our +Sunday-schools and churches and pauper-societies are +yokes to the neck. We pain ourselves to please nobody. +There are natural ways of arriving at the same ends at +which these aim, but do not arrive. Why should all +virtue work in one and the same way? Why should all give +dollars? It is very inconvenient to us country folk, and +we do not think any good will come of it. We have not +dollars; merchants have; let them give them. Farmers will +give corn; poets will sing; women will sew; laborers will +lend a hand; the children will bring flowers. And why drag +this dead weight of a Sunday-school over the whole +Christendom? It is natural and beautiful that childhood +should inquire and maturity should teach; but it is time +enough to answer questions when they are asked. Do not +shut up the young people against their will in a pew and +force the children to ask them questions for an hour +against their will. + +If we look wider, things are all alike; laws and letters +and creeds and modes of living seem a travesty of truth. +Our society is encumbered by ponderous machinery, which +resembles the endless aqueducts which the Romans built +over hill and dale and which are superseded by the +discovery of the law that water rises to the level of +its source. It is a Chinese wall which any nimble Tartar +can leap over. It is a standing army, not so good as a +peace. It is a graduated, titled, richly appointed empire, +quite superfluous when town-meetings are found to answer +just as well. + +Let us draw a lesson from nature, which always works by +short ways. When the fruit is ripe, it falls. When the +fruit is despatched, the leaf falls. The circuit of the +waters is mere falling. The walking of man and all animals +is a falling forward. All our manual labor and works of +strength, as prying, splitting, digging, rowing and so +forth, are done by dint of continual falling, and the +globe, earth, moon, comet, sun, star, fall for ever and ever. + +The simplicity of the universe is very different from +the simplicity of a machine. He who sees moral nature +out and out and thoroughly knows how knowledge is acquired +and character formed, is a pedant. The simplicity of nature +is not that which may easily be read, but is inexhaustible. +The last analysis can no wise be made. We judge of a man's +wisdom by his hope, knowing that the perception of the +inexhaustibleness of nature is an immortal youth. The wild +fertility of nature is felt in comparing our rigid names +and reputations with our fluid consciousness. We pass in +the world for sects and schools, for erudition and piety, +and we are all the time jejune babes. One sees very well +how Pyrrhonism grew up. Every man sees that he is that +middle point whereof every thing may be affirmed and denied +with equal reason. He is old, he is young, he is very wise, +he is altogether ignorant. He hears and feels what you say +of the seraphim, and of the tin-peddler. There is no +permanent wise man except in the figment of the Stoics. We +side with the hero, as we read or paint, against the coward +and the robber; but we have been ourselves that coward and +robber, and shall be again,--not in the low circumstance, +but in comparison with the grandeurs possible to the soul. + +A little consideration of what takes place around us +every day would show us that a higher law than that +of our will regulates events; that our painful labors +are unnecessary and fruitless; that only in our easy, +simple, spontaneous action are we strong, and by +contenting ourselves with obedience we become divine. +Belief and love,--a believing love will relieve us of +a vast load of care. O my brothers, God exists. There +is a soul at the centre of nature and over the will of +every man, so that none of us can wrong the universe. +It has so infused its strong enchantment into nature +that we prosper when we accept its advice, and when we +struggle to wound its creatures our hands are glued to +our sides, or they beat our own breasts. The whole course +of things goes to teach us faith. We need only obey. +There is guidance for each of us, and by lowly listening +we shall hear the right word. Why need you choose so +painfully your place and occupation and associates and +modes of action and of entertainment? Certainly there is +a possible right for you that precludes the need of +balance and wilful election. For you there is a reality, +a fit place and congenial duties. Place yourself in the +middle of the stream of power and wisdom which animates +all whom it floats, and you are without effort impelled +to truth, to right and a perfect contentment. Then you +put all gainsayers in the wrong. Then you are the world, +the measure of right, of truth, of beauty. If we will not +be mar-plots with our miserable interferences, the work, +the society, letters, arts, science, religion of men would +go on far better than now, and the heaven predicted from +the beginning of the world, and still predicted from the +bottom of the heart, would organize itself, as do now the +rose and the air and the sun. + +I say, do not choose; but that is a figure of speech +by which I would distinguish what is commonly called +choice among men, and which is a partial act, the +choice of the hands, of the eyes, of the appetites, +and not a whole act of the man. But that which I call +right or goodness, is the choice of my constitution; +and that which I call heaven, and inwardly aspire after, +is the state or circumstance desirable to my constitution; +and the action which I in all my years tend to do, is the +work for my faculties. We must hold a man amenable to +reason for the choice of his daily craft or profession. +It is not an excuse any longer for his deeds that they +are the custom of his trade. What business has he with +an evil trade? Has he not a calling in his character? + +Each man has his own vocation. The talent is the call. +There is one direction in which all space is open to +him. He has faculties silently inviting him thither +to endless exertion. He is like a ship in a river; he +runs against obstructions on every side but one, on +that side all obstruction is taken away and he sweeps +serenely over a deepening channel into an infinite sea. +This talent and this call depend on his organization, +or the mode in which the general soul incarnates itself +in him. He inclines to do something which is easy to him +and good when it is done, but which no other man can do. +He has no rival. For the more truly he consults his own +powers, the more difference will his work exhibit from +the work of any other. His ambition is exactly proportioned +to his powers. The height of the pinnacle is determined by +the breadth of the base. Every man has this call of the +power to do somewhat unique, and no man has any other call. +The pretence that he has another call, a summons by name +and personal election and outward "signs that mark him +extraordinary, and not in the roll of common men," is +fanaticism, and betrays obtuseness to perceive that there +is one mind in all the individuals, and no respect of +persons therein. + +By doing his work he makes the need felt which he can +supply, and creates the taste by which he is enjoyed. +By doing his own work he unfolds himself. It is the +vice of our public speaking that it has not abandonment. +Somewhere, not only every orator but every man should +let out all the length of all the reins; should find or +make a frank and hearty expression of what force and +meaning is in him. The common experience is that the +man fits himself as well as he can to the customary +details of that work or trade he falls into, and tends +it as a dog turns a spit. Then is he a part of the +machine he moves; the man is lost. Until he can manage +to communicate himself to others in his full stature +and proportion, he does not yet find his vocation. He +must find in that an outlet for his character, so that +he may justify his work to their eyes. If the labor is +mean, let him by his thinking and character make it +liberal. Whatever he knows and thinks, whatever in his +apprehension is worth doing, that let him communicate, +or men will never know and honor him aright. Foolish, +whenever you take the meanness and formality of that +thing you do, instead of converting it into the obedient +spiracle of your character and aims. + +We like only such actions as have already long had the +praise of men, and do not perceive that any thing man +can do may be divinely done. We think greatness entailed +or organized in some places or duties, in certain offices +or occasions, and do not see that Paganini can extract +rapture from a catgut, and Eulenstein from a jews-harp, +and a nimble-fingered lad out of shreds of paper with his +scissors, and Landseer out of swine, and the hero out of +the pitiful habitation and company in which he was hidden. +What we call obscure condition or vulgar society is that +condition and society whose poetry is not yet written, but +which you shall presently make as enviable and renowned as +any. In our estimates let us take a lesson from kings. The +parts of hospitality, the connection of families, the +impressiveness of death, and a thousand other things, +royalty makes its own estimate of, and a royal mind will. +To make habitually a new estimate,--that is elevation. + +What a man does, that he has. What has he to do with +hope or fear? In himself is his might. Let him regard +no good as solid but that which is in his nature and +which must grow out of him as long as he exists. The +goods of fortune may come and go like summer leaves; +let him scatter them on every wind as the momentary +signs of his infinite productiveness. + +He may have his own. A man's genius, the quality that +differences him from every other, the susceptibility +to one class of influences, the selection of what is +fit for him, the rejection of what is unfit, determines +for him the character of the universe. A man is a method, +a progressive arrangement; a selecting principle, +gathering his like to him wherever he goes. He takes only +his own out of the multiplicity that sweeps and circles +round him. He is like one of those booms which are set +out from the shore on rivers to catch drift-wood, or like +the loadstone amongst splinters of steel. Those facts, +words, persons, which dwell in his memory without his +being able to say why, remain because they have a relation +to him not less real for being as yet unapprehended. They +are symbols of value to him as they can interpret parts +of his consciousness which he would vainly seek words for +in the conventional images of books and other minds. What +attracts my attention shall have it, as I will go to the +man who knocks at my door, whilst a thousand persons as +worthy go by it, to whom I give no regard. It is enough +that these particulars speak to me. A few anecdotes, a +few traits of character, manners, face, a few incidents, +have an emphasis in your memory out of all proportion to +their apparent significance if you measure them by the +ordinary standards. They relate to your gift. Let them +have their weight, and do not reject them and cast about +for illustration and facts more usual in literature. What +your heart thinks great is great. The soul's emphasis is +always right. + +Over all things that are agreeable to his nature and +genius the man has the highest right. Everywhere he +may take what belongs to his spiritual estate, nor can +he take any thing else though all doors were open, nor +can all the force of men hinder him from taking so much. +It is vain to attempt to keep a secret from one who has +a right to know it. It will tell itself. That mood into +which a friend can bring us is his dominion over us. To +the thoughts of that state of mind he has a right. All +the secrets of that state of mind he can compel. This is +a law which statesmen use in practice. All the terrors +of the French Republic, which held Austria in awe, were +unable to command her diplomacy. But Napoleon sent to +Vienna M. de Narbonne, one of the old noblesse, with the +morals, manners and name of that interest, saying that it +was indispensable to send to the old aristocracy of Europe +men of the same connection, which, in fact, constitutes a +sort of free-masonry. M. de Narbonne in less than a +fortnight penetrated all the secrets of the imperial +cabinet. + +Nothing seems so easy as to speak and to be understood. +Yet a man may come to find that the strongest of defences +and of ties,--that he has been understood; and he who +has received an opinion may come to find it the most +inconvenient of bonds. + +If a teacher have any opinion which he wishes to conceal, +his pupils will become as fully indoctrinated into that +as into any which he publishes. If you pour water into +a vessel twisted into coils and angles, it is vain to +say, I will pour it only into this or that;--it will find +its level in all. Men feel and act the consequences of +your doctrine without being able to show how they follow. +Show us an arc of the curve, and a good mathematician will +find out the whole figure. We are always reasoning from +the seen to the unseen. Hence the perfect intelligence +that subsists between wise men of remote ages. A man +cannot bury his meanings so deep in his book but time and +like-minded men will find them. Plato had a secret doctrine, +had he? What secret can he conceal from the eyes of Bacon? +of Montaigne? of Kant? Therefore, Aristotle said of his +works, "They are published and not published." + +No man can learn what he has not preparation for learning, +however near to his eyes is the object. A chemist may +tell his most precious secrets to a carpenter, and he +shall be never the wiser,--the secrets he would not utter +to a chemist for an estate. God screens us evermore from +premature ideas. Our eyes are holden that we cannot see +things that stare us in the face, until the hour arrives +when the mind is ripened; then we behold them, and the +time when we saw them not is like a dream. + +Not in nature but in man is all the beauty and worth +he sees. The world is very empty, and is indebted to +this gilding, exalting soul for all its pride. "Earth +fills her lap with splendors" not her own. The vale of +Tempe, Tivoli and Rome are earth and water, rocks and +sky. There are as good earth and water in a thousand +places, yet how unaffecting! + +People are not the better for the sun and moon, the +horizon and the trees; as it is not observed that the +keepers of Roman galleries or the valets of painters +have any elevation of thought, or that librarians are +wiser men than others. There are graces in the demeanor +of a polished and noble person which are lost upon the +eye of a churl. These are like the stars whose light has +not yet reached us. + +He may see what he maketh. Our dreams are the sequel of +our waking knowledge. The visions of the night bear some +proportion to the visions of the day. Hideous dreams are +exaggerations of the sins of the day. We see our evil +affections embodied in bad physiognomies. On the Alps +the traveller sometimes beholds his own shadow magnified +to a giant, so that every gesture of his hand is terrific. +"My children," said an old man to his boys scared by a +figure in the dark entry, "my children, you will never +see any thing worse than yourselves." As in dreams, so in +the scarcely less fluid events of the world every man sees +himself in colossal, without knowing that it is himself. +The good, compared to the evil which he sees, is as his +own good to his own evil. Every quality of his mind is +magnified in some one acquaintance, and every emotion of +his heart in some one. He is like a quincunx of trees, +which counts five,--east, west, north, or south; or an +initial, medial, and terminal acrostic. And why not? He +cleaves to one person and avoids another, according to +their likeness or unlikeness to himself, truly seeking +himself in his associates and moreover in his trade and +habits and gestures and meats and drinks, and comes at +last to be faithfully represented by every view you take +of his circumstances. + +He may read what he writes. What can we see or acquire +but what we are? You have observed a skilful man reading +Virgil. Well, that author is a thousand books to a +thousand persons. Take the book into your two hands and +read your eyes out, you will never find what I find. If +any ingenious reader would have a monopoly of the wisdom +or delight he gets, he is as secure now the book is +Englished, as if it were imprisoned in the Pelews' tongue. +It is with a good book as it is with good company. Introduce +a base person among gentlemen, it is all to no purpose; he +is not their fellow. Every society protects itself. The +company is perfectly safe, and he is not one of them, +though his body is in the room. + +What avails it to fight with the eternal laws of mind, +which adjust the relation of all persons to each other +by the mathematical measure of their havings and beings? +Gertrude is enamored of Guy; how high, how aristocratic, +how Roman his mien and manners! to live with him were +life indeed, and no purchase is too great; and heaven and +earth are moved to that end. Well, Gertrude has Guy; but +what now avails how high, how aristocratic, how Roman his +mien and manners, if his heart and aims are in the senate, +in the theatre and in the billiard-room, and she has no +aims, no conversation that can enchant her graceful lord? + +He shall have his own society. We can love nothing but +nature. The most wonderful talents, the most meritorious +exertions really avail very little with us; but nearness +or likeness of nature,--how beautiful is the ease of its +victory! Persons approach us, famous for their beauty, +for their accomplishments, worthy of all wonder for their +charms and gifts; they dedicate their whole skill to the +hour and the company,--with very imperfect result. To be +sure it would be ungrateful in us not to praise them +loudly. Then, when all is done, a person of related mind, +a brother or sister by nature, comes to us so softly and +easily, so nearly and intimately, as if it were the blood +in our proper veins, that we feel as if some one was gone, +instead of another having come; we are utterly relieved +and refreshed; it is a sort of joyful solitude. We foolishly +think in our days of sin that we must court friends by +compliance to the customs of society, to its dress, its +breeding, and its estimates. But only that soul can be my +friend which I encounter on the line of my own march, that +soul to which I do not decline and which does not decline +to me, but, native of the same celestial latitude, repeats +in its own all my experience. The scholar forgets himself +and apes the customs and costumes of the man of the world +to deserve the smile of beauty, and follows some giddy +girl, not yet taught by religious passion to know the noble +woman with all that is serene, oracular and beautiful in her +soul. Let him be great, and love shall follow him. Nothing +is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities +by which alone society should be formed, and the insane +levity of choosing associates by others' eyes. + +He may set his own rate. It is a maxim worthy of all +acceptation that a man may have that allowance he takes. +Take the place and attitude which belong to you, and all +men acquiesce. The world must be just. It leaves every +man, with profound unconcern, to set his own rate. Hero +or driveller, it meddles not in the matter. It will +certainly accept your own measure of your doing and being, +whether you sneak about and deny your own name, or whether +you see your work produced to the concave sphere of the +heavens, one with the revolution of the stars. + +The same reality pervades all teaching. The man may +teach by doing, and not otherwise. If he can communicate +himself he can teach, but not by words. He teaches who +gives, and he learns who receives. There is no teaching +until the pupil is brought into the same state or +principle in which you are; a transfusion takes place; +he is you and you are he; then is a teaching, and by no +unfriendly chance or bad company can he ever quite lose +the benefit. But your propositions run out of one ear +as they ran in at the other. We see it advertised that +Mr. Grand will deliver an oration on the Fourth of July, +and Mr. Hand before the Mechanics' Association, and we +do not go thither, because we know that these gentlemen +will not communicate their own character and experience +to the company. If we had reason to expect such a +confidence we should go through all inconvenience and +opposition. The sick would be carried in litters. But +a public oration is an escapade, a non-committal, an +apology, a gag, and not a communication, not a speech, +not a man. + +A like Nemesis presides over all intellectual works. We +have yet to learn that the thing uttered in words is +not therefore affirmed. It must affirm itself, or no +forms of logic or of oath can give it evidence. The +sentence must also contain its own apology for being +spoken. + +The effect of any writing on the public mind is +mathematically measurable by its depth of thought. How +much water does it draw? If it awaken you to think, if +it lift you from your feet with the great voice of +eloquence, then the effect is to be wide, slow, permanent, +over the minds of men; if the pages instruct you not, +they will die like flies in the hour. The way to speak +and write what shall not go out of fashion is to speak +and write sincerely. The argument which has not power +to reach my own practice, I may well doubt will fail +to reach yours. But take Sidney's maxim:--"Look in thy +heart, and write." He that writes to himself writes to +an eternal public. That statement only is fit to be made +public which you have come at in attempting to satisfy +your own curiosity. The writer who takes his subject from +his ear and not from his heart, should know that he has +lost as much as he seems to have gained, and when the +empty book has gathered all its praise, and half the +people say, 'What poetry! what genius!' it still needs +fuel to make fire. That only profits which is profitable. +Life alone can impart life; and though we should burst we +can only be valued as we make ourselves valuable. There +is no luck in literary reputation. They who make up the +final verdict upon every book are not the partial and +noisy readers of the hour when it appears, but a court as +of angels, a public not to be bribed, not to be entreated +and not to be overawed, decides upon every man's title to +fame. Only those books come down which deserve to last. +Gilt edges, vellum and morocco, and presentation-copies +to all the libraries will not preserve a book in circulation +beyond its intrinsic date. It must go with all Walpole's +Noble and Royal Authors to its fate. Blackmore, Kotzebue, +or Pollok may endure for a night, but Moses and Homer stand +for ever. There are not in the world at any one time more +than a dozen persons who read and understand Plato,--never +enough to pay for an edition of his works; yet to every +generation these come duly down, for the sake of those few +persons, as if God brought them in his hand. "No book," said +Bentley, "was ever written down by any but itself." The +permanence of all books is fixed by no effort, friendly or +hostile, but by their own specific gravity, or the intrinsic +importance of their contents to the constant mind of man. +"Do not trouble yourself too much about the light on your +statue," said Michael Angelo to the young sculptor; "the +light of the public square will test its value." + +In like manner the effect of every action is measured +by the depth of the sentiment from which it proceeds. +The great man knew not that he was great. It took a +century or two for that fact to appear. What he did, +he did because he must; it was the most natural thing +in the world, and grew out of the circumstances of the +moment. But now, every thing he did, even to the lifting +of his finger or the eating of bread, looks large, all- +related, and is called an institution. + +These are the demonstrations in a few particulars of +the genius of nature; they show the direction of the +stream. But the stream is blood; every drop is alive. +Truth has not single victories; all things are its +organs,--not only dust and stones, but errors and lies. +The laws of disease, physicians say, are as beautiful +as the laws of health. Our philosophy is affirmative +and readily accepts the testimony of negative facts, as +every shadow points to the sun. By a divine necessity +every fact in nature is constrained to offer its testimony. + +Human character evermore publishes itself. The most +fugitive deed and word, the mere air of doing a thing, +the intimated purpose, expresses character. If you act +you show character; if you sit still, if you sleep, you +show it. You think because you have spoken nothing when +others spoke, and have given no opinion on the times, +on the church, on slavery, on marriage, on socialism, +on secret societies, on the college, on parties and +persons, that your verdict is still expected with +curiosity as a reserved wisdom. Far otherwise; your +silence answers very loud. You have no oracle to utter, +and your fellow-men have learned that you cannot help +them; for oracles speak. Doth not Wisdom cry and +Understanding put forth her voice? + +Dreadful limits are set in nature to the powers of +dissimulation. Truth tyrannizes over the unwilling +members of the body. Faces never lie, it is said. No +man need be deceived who will study the changes of +expression. When a man speaks the truth in the spirit +of truth, his eye is as clear as the heavens. When he +has base ends and speaks falsely, the eye is muddy and +sometimes asquint. + +I have heard an experienced counsellor say that he +never feared the effect upon a jury of a lawyer who +does not believe in his heart that his client ought +to have a verdict. If he does not believe it his +unbelief will appear to the jury, despite all his +protestations, and will become their unbelief. This +is that law whereby a work of art, of whatever kind, +sets us in the same state of mind wherein the artist +was when he made it. That which we do not believe we +cannot adequately say, though we may repeat the words +never so often. It was this conviction which Swedenborg +expressed when he described a group of persons in the +spiritual world endeavoring in vain to articulate a +proposition which they did not believe; but they could +not, though they twisted and folded their lips even to +indignation. + +A man passes for that he is worth. Very idle is all +curiosity concerning other people's estimate of us, +and all fear of remaining unknown is not less so. If +a man know that he can do any thing,--that he can do +it better than any one else,--he has a pledge of the +acknowledgment of that fact by all persons. The world +is full of judgment-days, and into every assembly that +a man enters, in every action he attempts, he is gauged +and stamped. In every troop of boys that whoop and run +in each yard and square, a new-comer is as well and +accurately weighed in the course of a few days and +stamped with his right number, as if he had undergone +a formal trial of his strength, speed and temper. A +stranger comes from a distant school, with better dress, +with trinkets in his pockets, with airs and pretensions; +an older boy says to himself, 'It's of no use; we shall +find him out to-morrow.' 'What has he done?' is the divine +question which searches men and transpierces every false +reputation. A fop may sit in any chair of the world nor +be distinguished for his hour from Homer and Washington; +but there need never be any doubt concerning the respective +ability of human beings. Pretension may sit still, but +cannot act. Pretension never feigned an act of real +greatness. Pretension never wrote an Iliad, nor drove back +Xerxes, nor christianized the world, nor abolished slavery. + +As much virtue as there is, so much appears; as much +goodness as there is, so much reverence it commands. +All the devils respect virtue. The high, the generous, +the self-devoted sect will always instruct and command +mankind. Never was a sincere word utterly lost. Never a +magnanimity fell to the ground, but there is some heart +to greet and accept it unexpectedly. A man passes for +that he is worth. What he is engraves itself on his face, +on his form, on his fortunes, in letters of light. +Concealment avails him nothing, boasting nothing. There +is confession in the glances of our eyes, in our smiles, +in salutations, and the grasp of hands. His sin bedaubs +him, mars all his good impression. Men know not why they +do not trust him, but they do not trust him. His vice +glasses his eye, cuts lines of mean expression in his +cheek, pinches the nose, sets the mark of the beast on +the back of the head, and writes O fool! fool! on the +forehead of a king. + +If you would not be known to do any thing, never do it. +A man may play the fool in the drifts of a desert, but +every grain of sand shall seem to see. He may be a +solitary eater, but he cannot keep his foolish counsel. +A broken complexion, a swinish look, ungenerous acts +and the want of due knowledge,--all blab. Can a cook, a +Chiffinch, an Iachimo be mistaken for Zeno or Paul? +Confucius exclaimed,--"How can a man be concealed? How +can a man be concealed?" + +On the other hand, the hero fears not that if he +withhold the avowal of a just and brave act it will +go unwitnessed and unloved. One knows it,--himself, +--and is pledged by it to sweetness of peace and to +nobleness of aim which will prove in the end a better +proclamation of it than the relating of the incident. +Virtue is the adherence in action to the nature of +things, and the nature of things makes it prevalent. +It consists in a perpetual substitution of being for +seeming, and with sublime propriety God is described +as saying, I AM. + +The lesson which these observations convey is, Be, and +not seem. Let us acquiesce. Let us take our bloated +nothingness out of the path of the divine circuits. Let +us unlearn our wisdom of the world. Let us lie low in +the Lord's power and learn that truth alone makes rich +and great. + +If you visit your friend, why need you apologize for +not having visited him, and waste his time and deface +your own act? Visit him now. Let him feel that the +highest love has come to see him, in thee its lowest +organ. Or why need you torment yourself and friend by +secret self-reproaches that you have not assisted him +or complimented him with gifts and salutations heretofore? +Be a gift and a benediction. Shine with real light and not +with the borrowed reflection of gifts. Common men are +apologies for men; they bow the head, excuse themselves +with prolix reasons, and accumulate appearances because +the substance is not. + +We are full of these superstitions of sense, the worship +of magnitude. We call the poet inactive, because he is +not a president, a merchant, or a porter. We adore an +institution, and do not see that it is founded on a +thought which we have. But real action is in silent +moments. The epochs of our life are not in the visible +facts of our choice of a calling, our marriage, our +acquisition of an office, and the like, but in a silent +thought by the way-side as we walk; in a thought which +revises our entire manner of life and says,--'Thus hast +thou done, but it were better thus.' And all our after +years, like menials, serve and wait on this, and according +to their ability execute its will. This revisal or +correction is a constant force, which, as a tendency, +reaches through our lifetime. The object of the man, the +aim of these moments, is to make daylight shine through +him, to suffer the law to traverse his whole being without +obstruction, so that on what point soever of his doing your +eye falls it shall report truly of his character, whether +it be his diet, his house, his religious forms, his society, +his mirth, his vote, his opposition. Now he is not homogeneous, +but heterogeneous, and the ray does not traverse; there are +no thorough lights, but the eye of the beholder is puzzled, +detecting many unlike tendencies and a life not yet at one. + +Why should we make it a point with our false modesty +to disparage that man we are and that form of being +assigned to us? A good man is contented. I love and +honor Epaminondas, but I do not wish to be Epaminondas. +I hold it more just to love the world of this hour than +the world of his hour. Nor can you, if I am true, excite +me to the least uneasiness by saying, 'He acted and thou +sittest still.' I see action to be good, when the need +is, and sitting still to be also good. Epaminondas, if +he was the man I take him for, would have sat still with +joy and peace, if his lot had been mine. Heaven is large, +and affords space for all modes of love and fortitude. +Why should we be busybodies and superserviceable? Action +and inaction are alike to the true. One piece of the tree +is cut for a weathercock and one for the sleeper of a +bridge; the virtue of the wood is apparent in both. + +I desire not to disgrace the soul. The fact that I am +here certainly shows me that the soul had need of an +organ here. Shall I not assume the post? Shall I skulk +and dodge and duck with my unseasonable apologies and +vain modesty and imagine my being here impertinent? +less pertinent than Epaminondas or Homer being there? +and that the soul did not know its own needs? Besides, +without any reasoning on the matter, I have no discontent. +The good soul nourishes me and unlocks new magazines of +power and enjoyment to me every day. I will not meanly +decline the immensity of good, because I have heard that +it has come to others in another shape. + +Besides, why should we be cowed by the name of Action? +'Tis a trick of the senses,--no more. We know that the +ancestor of every action is a thought. The poor mind does +not seem to itself to be any thing unless it have an +outside badge,--some Gentoo diet, or Quaker coat, or +Calvinistic prayer-meeting, or philanthropic society, or +a great donation, or a high office, or, any how, some wild +contrasting action to testify that it is somewhat. The rich +mind lies in the sun and sleeps, and is Nature. To think is +to act. + +Let us, if we must have great actions, make our own so. +All action is of an infinite elasticity, and the least +admits of being inflated with the celestial air until +it eclipses the sun and moon. Let us seek one peace +by fidelity. Let me heed my duties. Why need I go gadding +into the scenes and philosophy of Greek and Italian +history before I have justified myself to my benefactors? +How dare I read Washington's campaigns when I have not +answered the letters of my own correspondents? Is not +that a just objection to much of our reading? It is a +pusillanimous desertion of our work to gaze after our +neighbors. It is peeping. Byron says of Jack Bunting,-- + + "He knew not what to say, and so he swore." + +I may say it of our preposterous use of books,--He knew +not what to do, and so he read. I can think of nothing +to fill my time with, and I find the Life of Brant. It +is a very extravagant compliment to pay to Brant, or to +General Schuyler, or to General Washington. My time +should be as good as their time,--my facts, my net of +relations, as good as theirs, or either of theirs. Rather +let me do my work so well that other idlers if they choose +may compare my texture with the texture of these and find +it identical with the best. + +This over-estimate of the possibilities of Paul and +Pericles, this under-estimate of our own, comes from a +neglect of the fact of an identical nature. Bonaparte +knew but one merit, and rewarded in one and the same +way the good soldier, the good astronomer, the good +poet, the good player. The poet uses the names of Caesar, +of Tamerlane, of Bonduca, of Belisarius; the painter uses +the conventional story of the Virgin Mary, of Paul, of +Peter. He does not therefore defer to the nature of these +accidental men, of these stock heroes. If the poet write +a true drama, then he is Caesar, and not the player of +Caesar; then the selfsame strain of thought, emotion as +pure, wit as subtle, motions as swift, mounting, extravagant, +and a heart as great, self-sufficing, dauntless, which on +the waves of its love and hope can uplift all that is +reckoned solid and precious in the world,--palaces, gardens, +money, navies, kingdoms,--marking its own incomparable worth +by the slight it casts on these gauds of men;--these all are +his, and by the power of these he rouses the nations. Let a +man believe in God, and not in names and places and persons. +Let the great soul incarnated in some woman's form, poor and +sad and single, in some Dolly or Joan, go out to service, +and sweep chambers and scour floors, and its effulgent +daybeams cannot be muffled or hid, but to sweep and scour +will instantly appear supreme and beautiful actions, the top +and radiance of human life, and all people will get mops and +brooms; until, lo! suddenly the great soul has enshrined +itself in some other form and done some other deed, and that +is now the flower and head of all living nature. + +We are the photometers, we the irritable goldleaf and +tinfoil that measure the accumulations of the subtle +element. We know the authentic effects of the true fire +through every one of its million disguises. + + + + +Love. + +"I was as a gem concealed; +Me my burning ray revealed." + Koran . + +V. +Love. + +Every promise of the soul has innumerable fulfilments; +each of its joys ripens into a new want. Nature, +uncontainable, flowing, forelooking, in the first +sentiment of kindness anticipates already a benevolence +which shall lose all particular regards in its general +light. The introduction to this felicity is in a private +and tender relation of one to one, which is the enchantment +of human life; which, like a certain divine rage and +enthusiasm, seizes on man at one period and works a +revolution in his mind and body; unites him to his race, +pledges him to the domestic and civic relations, carries +him with new sympathy into nature, enhances the power of +the senses, opens the imagination, adds to his character +heroic and sacred attributes, establishes marriage, and +gives permanence to human society. + +The natural association of the sentiment of love with +the heyday of the blood seems to require that in order +to portray it in vivid tints, which every youth and maid +should confess to be true to their throbbing experience, +one must not be too old. The delicious fancies of youth +reject the least savor of a mature philosophy, as chilling +with age and pedantry their purple bloom. And therefore I +know I incur the imputation of unnecessary hardness and +stoicism from those who compose the Court and Parliament +of Love. But from these formidable censors I shall appeal +to my seniors. For it is to be considered that this passion +of which we speak, though it begin with the young, yet +forsakes not the old, or rather suffers no one who is truly +its servant to grow old, but makes the aged participators +of it not less than the tender maiden, though in a different +and nobler sort. For it is a fire that kindling its first +embers in the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from +a wandering spark out of another private heart, glows and +enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men +and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights +up the whole world and all nature with its generous flames. +It matters not therefore whether we attempt to describe +the passion at twenty, at thirty, or at eighty years. He +who paints it at the first period will lose some of its +later, he who paints it at the last, some of its earlier +traits. Only it is to be hoped that by patience and the +Muses' aid we may attain to that inward view of the law +which shall describe a truth ever young and beautiful, so +central that it shall commend itself to the eye, at whatever +angle beholden. + +And the first condition is, that we must leave a too +close and lingering adherence to facts, and study the +sentiment as it appeared in hope and not in history. +For each man sees his own life defaced and disfigured, +as the life of man is not, to his imagination. Each man +sees over his own experience a certain stain of error, +whilst that of other men looks fair and ideal. Let any +man go back to those delicious relations which make the +beauty of his life, which have given him sincerest +instruction and nourishment, he will shrink and moan. +Alas! I know not why, but infinite compunctions embitter +in mature life the remembrances of budding joy and cover +every beloved name. Every thing is beautiful seen from the +point of the intellect, or as truth. But all is sour, if +seen as experience. Details are melancholy; the plan is +seemly and noble. In the actual world--the painful kingdom +of time and place--dwell care, and canker, and fear. With +thought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the rose of +joy. Round it all the Muses sing. But grief cleaves to +names, and persons, and the partial interests of to-day +and yesterday. + +The strong bent of nature is seen in the proportion +which this topic of personal relations usurps in the +conversation of society. What do we wish to know of +any worthy person so much, as how he has sped in the +history of this sentiment? What books in the circulating +libraries circulate? How we glow over these novels of +passion, when the story is told with any spark of truth +and nature! And what fastens attention, in the intercourse +of life, like any passage betraying affection between two +parties? Perhaps we never saw them before, and never shall +meet them again. But we see them exchange a glance, or +betray a deep emotion, and we are no longer strangers. We +understand them, and take the warmest interest in the +development of the romance. All mankind love a lover. The +earliest demonstrations of complacency and kindness are +nature's most winning pictures. It is the dawn of civility +and grace in the coarse and rustic. The rude village boy +teases the girls about the school-house door;--but to-day +he comes running into the entry, and meets one fair child +disposing her satchel; he holds her books to help her, and +instantly it seems to him as if she removed herself from +him infinitely, and was a sacred precinct. Among the throng +of girls he runs rudely enough, but one alone distances him; +and these two little neighbors, that were so close just now, +have learned to respect each other's personality. Or who can +avert his eyes from the engaging, half-artful, half-artless +ways of school-girls who go into the country shops to buy a +skein of silk or a sheet of paper, and talk half an hour +about nothing with the broad-faced, good-natured shop-boy. +In the village they are on a perfect equality, which love +delights in, and without any coquetry the happy, affectionate +nature of woman flows out in this pretty gossip. The girls +may have little beauty, yet plainly do they establish between +them and the good boy the most agreeable, confiding relations, +what with their fun and their earnest, about Edgar and Jonas +and Almira, and who was invited to the party, and who danced +at the dancing-school, and when the singing-school would begin, +and other nothings concerning which the parties cooed. By and +by that boy wants a wife, and very truly and heartily will he +know where to find a sincere and sweet mate, without any risk +such as Milton deplores as incident to scholars and great men. + +I have been told that in some public discourses of mine +my reverence for the intellect has made me unjustly cold +to the personal relations. But now I almost shrink at the +remembrance of such disparaging words. For persons are +love's world, and the coldest philosopher cannot recount +the debt of the young soul wandering here in nature to +the power of love, without being tempted to unsay, as +treasonable to nature, aught derogatory to the social +instincts. For though the celestial rapture falling out +of heaven seizes only upon those of tender age, and +although a beauty overpowering all analysis or comparison +and putting us quite beside ourselves we can seldom see +after thirty years, yet the remembrance of these visions +outlasts all other remembrances, and is a wreath of flowers +on the oldest brows. But here is a strange fact; it may +seem to many men, in revising their experience, that they +have no fairer page in their life's book than the delicious +memory of some passages wherein affection contrived to give +a witchcraft, surpassing the deep attraction of its own +truth, to a parcel of accidental and trivial circumstances. +In looking backward they may find that several things which +were not the charm have more reality to this groping memory +than the charm itself which embalmed them. But be our +experience in particulars what it may, no man ever forgot +the visitations of that power to his heart and brain, which +created all things anew; which was the dawn in him of music, +poetry, and art; which made the face of nature radiant with +purple light, the morning and the night varied enchantments; +when a single tone of one voice could make the heart bound, +and the most trivial circumstance associated with one form +is put in the amber of memory; when he became all eye when +one was present, and all memory when one was gone; when the +youth becomes a watcher of windows and studious of a glove, +a veil, a ribbon, or the wheels of a carriage; when no place +is too solitary and none too silent, for him who has richer +company and sweeter conversation in his new thoughts than +any old friends, though best and purest, can give him; for +the figures, the motions, the words of the beloved object +are not like other images written in water, but, as Plutarch +said, "enamelled in fire," and make the study of midnight:-- + + "Thou art not gone being gone, where'er thou art, + Thou leav'st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy + loving heart." + +In the noon and the afternoon of life we still throb at +the recollection of days when happiness was not happy +enough, but must be drugged with the relish of pain and +fear; for he touched the secret of the matter who said +of love,-- + + "All other pleasures are not worth its pains:" + +and when the day was not long enough, but the night too +must be consumed in keen recollections; when the head +boiled all night on the pillow with the generous deed +it resolved on; when the moonlight was a pleasing fever +and the stars were letters and the flowers ciphers and +the air was coined into song; when all business seemed +an impertinence, and all the men and women running to +and fro in the streets, mere pictures. + +The passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes +all things alive and significant. Nature grows conscious. +Every bird on the boughs of the tree sings now to his +heart and soul. The notes are almost articulate. The +clouds have faces as he looks on them. The trees of the +forest, the waving grass and the peeping flowers have +grown intelligent; and he almost fears to trust them with +the secret which they seem to invite. Yet nature soothes +and sympathizes. In the green solitude he finds a dearer +home than with men:-- + + "Fountain-heads and pathless groves, + Places which pale passion loves, + Moonlight walks, when all the fowls + Are safely housed, save bats and owls, + A midnight bell, a passing groan,-- + These are the sounds we feed upon." + +Behold there in the wood the fine madman! He is a +palace of sweet sounds and sights; he dilates; he is +twice a man; he walks with arms akimbo; he soliloquizes; +he accosts the grass and the trees; he feels the blood +of the violet, the clover and the lily in his veins; and +he talks with the brook that wets his foot. + +The heats that have opened his perceptions of natural +beauty have made him love music and verse. It is a +fact often observed, that men have written good verses +under the inspiration of passion, who cannot write well +under any other circumstances. + +The like force has the passion over all his nature. It +expands the sentiment; it makes the clown gentle and +gives the coward heart. Into the most pitiful and abject +it will infuse a heart and courage to defy the world, so +only it have the countenance of the beloved object. In +giving him to another it still more gives him to himself. +He is a new man, with new perceptions, new and keener +purposes, and a religious solemnity of character and aims. +He does not longer appertain to his family and society; he +is somewhat; he is a person; he is a soul. + +And here let us examine a little nearer the nature of that +influence which is thus potent over the human youth. Beauty, +whose revelation to man we now celebrate, welcome as the +sun wherever it pleases to shine, which pleases everybody +with it and with themselves, seems sufficient to itself. +The lover cannot paint his maiden to his fancy poor and +solitary. Like a tree in flower, so much soft, budding, +informing loveliness is society for itself; and she teaches +his eye why Beauty was pictured with Loves and Graces +attending her steps. Her existence makes the world rich. +Though she extrudes all other persons from his attention +as cheap and unworthy, she indemnifies him by carrying out +her own being into somewhat impersonal, large, mundane, so +that the maiden stands to him for a representative of all +select things and virtues. For that reason the lover never +sees personal resemblances in his mistress to her kindred +or to others. His friends find in her a likeness to her +mother, or her sisters, or to persons not of her blood. The +lover sees no resemblance except to summer evenings and +diamond mornings, to rainbows and the song of birds. + +The ancients called beauty the flowering of virtue. Who +can analyze the nameless charm which glances from one +and another face and form? We are touched with emotions +of tenderness and complacency, but we cannot find whereat +this dainty emotion, this wandering gleam, points. It is +destroyed for the imagination by any attempt to refer it +to organization. Nor does it point to any relations of +friendship or love known and described in society, but, +as it seems to me, to a quite other and unattainable +sphere, to relations of transcendent delicacy and sweetness, +to what roses and violets hint and foreshow. We cannot +approach beauty. Its nature is like opaline doves'-neck +lustres, hovering and evanescent. Herein it resembles the +most excellent things, which all have this rainbow character, +defying all attempts at appropriation and use. What else +did Jean Paul Richter signify, when he said to music, "Away! +away! thou speakest to me of things which in all my endless +life I have not found, and shall not find." The same fluency +may be observed in every work of the plastic arts. The statue +is then beautiful when it begins to be incomprehensible, when +it is passing out of criticism and can no longer be defined +by compass and measuring-wand, but demands an active +imagination to go with it and to say what it is in the act of +doing. The god or hero of the sculptor is always represented +in a transition from that which is representable to the senses, +to that which is not. Then first it ceases to be a stone. The +same remark holds of painting. And of poetry the success is +not attained when it lulls and satisfies, but when it +astonishes and fires us with new endeavors after the +unattainable. Concerning it Landor inquires "whether it +is not to be referred to some purer state of sensation and +existence." + +In like manner, personal beauty is then first charming +and itself when it dissatisfies us with any end; when +it becomes a story without an end; when it suggests +gleams and visions and not earthly satisfactions; when +it makes the beholder feel his unworthiness; when he +cannot feel his right to it, though he were Caesar; he +cannot feel more right to it than to the firmament and +the splendors of a sunset. + +Hence arose the saying, "If I love you, what is that to +you?" We say so because we feel that what we love is not +in your will, but above it. It is not you, but your +radiance. It is that which you know not in yourself and +can never know. + +This agrees well with that high philosophy of Beauty +which the ancient writers delighted in; for they said +that the soul of man, embodied here on earth, went +roaming up and down in quest of that other world of +its own out of which it came into this, but was soon +stupefied by the light of the natural sun, and unable +to see any other objects than those of this world, +which are but shadows of real things. Therefore the +Deity sends the glory of youth before the soul, that +it may avail itself of beautiful bodies as aids to its +recollection of the celestial good and fair; and the +man beholding such a person in the female sex runs to +her and finds the highest joy in contemplating the form, +movement, and intelligence of this person, because it +suggests to him the presence of that which indeed is +within the beauty, and the cause of the beauty. + +If however, from too much conversing with material +objects, the soul was gross, and misplaced its +satisfaction in the body, it reaped nothing but +sorrow; body being unable to fulfil the promise +which beauty holds out; but if, accepting the hint +of these visions and suggestions which beauty makes +to his mind, the soul passes through the body and +falls to admire strokes of character, and the lovers +contemplate one another in their discourses and their +actions, then they pass to the true palace of beauty, +more and more inflame their love of it, and by this +love extinguishing the base affection, as the sun puts +out the fire by shining on the hearth, they become pure +and hallowed. By conversation with that which is in +itself excellent, magnanimous, lowly, and just, the +lover comes to a warmer love of these nobilities, and +a quicker apprehension of them. Then he passes from +loving them in one to loving them in all, and so is +the one beautiful soul only the door through which he +enters to the society of all true and pure souls. In +the particular society of his mate he attains a clearer +sight of any spot, any taint which her beauty has +contracted from this world, and is able to point it out, +and this with mutual joy that they are now able, without +offence, to indicate blemishes and hindrances in each +other, and give to each all help and comfort in curing +the same. And beholding in many souls the traits of the +divine beauty, and separating in each soul that which +is divine from the taint which it has contracted in the +world, the lover ascends to the highest beauty, to the +love and knowledge of the Divinity, by steps on this +ladder of created souls. + +Somewhat like this have the truly wise told us of love +in all ages. The doctrine is not old, nor is it new. If +Plato, Plutarch and Apuleius taught it, so have Petrarch, +Angelo and Milton. It awaits a truer unfolding in opposition +and rebuke to that subterranean prudence which presides at +marriages with words that take hold of the upper world, +whilst one eye is prowling in the cellar; so that its gravest +discourse has a savor of hams and powdering-tubs. Worst, when +this sensualism intrudes into the education of young women, +and withers the hope and affection of human nature by +teaching that marriage signifies nothing but a housewife's +thrift, and that woman's life has no other aim. + +But this dream of love, though beautiful, is only one +scene in our play. In the procession of the soul from +within outward, it enlarges its circles ever, like the +pebble thrown into the pond, or the light proceeding +from an orb. The rays of the soul alight first on things +nearest, on every utensil and toy, on nurses and +domestics, on the house and yard and passengers, on the +circle of household acquaintance, on politics and geography +and history. But things are ever grouping themselves +according to higher or more interior laws. Neighborhood, +size, numbers, habits, persons, lose by degrees their power +over us. Cause and effect, real affinities, the longing for +harmony between the soul and the circumstance, the progressive, +idealizing instinct, predominate later, and the step backward +from the higher to the lower relations is impossible. Thus +even love, which is the deification of persons, must become +more impersonal every day. Of this at first it gives no hint. +Little think the youth and maiden who are glancing at each +other across crowded rooms with eyes so full of mutual +intelligence, of the precious fruit long hereafter to +proceed from this new, quite external stimulus. The work +of vegetation begins first in the irritability of the bark +and leaf-buds. From exchanging glances, they advance to +acts of courtesy, of gallantry, then to fiery passion, to +plighting troth and marriage. Passion beholds its object as +a perfect unit. The soul is wholly embodied, and the body is +wholly ensouled:-- + + "Her pure and eloquent blood + Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, + That one might almost say her body thought." + +Romeo, if dead, should be cut up into little stars to +make the heavens fine. Life, with this pair, has no +other aim, asks no more, than Juliet,--than Romeo. +Night, day, studies, talents, kingdoms, religion, are +all contained in this form full of soul, in this soul +which is all form. The lovers delight in endearments, +in avowals of love, in comparisons of their regards. +When alone, they solace themselves with the remembered +image of the other. Does that other see the same star, +the same melting cloud, read the same book, feel the +same emotion, that now delight me? They try and weigh +their affection, and adding up costly advantages, friends, +opportunities, properties, exult in discovering that +willingly, joyfully, they would give all as a ransom for +the beautiful, the beloved head, not one hair of which +shall be harmed. But the lot of humanity is on these +children. Danger, sorrow, and pain arrive to them, as to +all. Love prays. It makes covenants with Eternal Power +in behalf of this dear mate. The union which is thus +effected and which adds a new value to every atom in +nature--for it transmutes every thread throughout the +whole web of relation into a golden ray, and bathes the +soul in a new and sweeter element--is yet a temporary +state. Not always can flowers, pearls, poetry, +protestations, nor even home in another heart, content +the awful soul that dwells in clay. It arouses itself +at last from these endearments, as toys, and puts on +the harness and aspires to vast and universal aims. The +soul which is in the soul of each, craving a perfect +beatitude, detects incongruities, defects and +disproportion in the behavior of the other. Hence arise +surprise, expostulation and pain. Yet that which drew +them to each other was signs of loveliness, signs of +virtue; and these virtues are there, however eclipsed. +They appear and reappear and continue to attract; but +the regard changes, quits the sign and attaches to the +substance. This repairs the wounded affection. Meantime, +as life wears on, it proves a game of permutation and +combination of all possible positions of the parties, +to employ all the resources of each and acquaint each +with the strength and weakness of the other. For it is +the nature and end of this relation, that they should +represent the human race to each other. All that is in +the world, which is or ought to be known, is cunningly +wrought into the texture of man, of woman:-- + + "The person love does to us fit, + Like manna, has the taste of all in it." + +The world rolls; the circumstances vary every hour. The +angels that inhabit this temple of the body appear at +the windows, and the gnomes and vices also. By all the +virtues they are united. If there be virtue, all the +vices are known as such; they confess and flee. Their +once flaming regard is sobered by time in either breast, +and losing in violence what it gains in extent, it becomes +a thorough good understanding. They resign each other +without complaint to the good offices which man and woman +are severally appointed to discharge in time, and exchange +the passion which once could not lose sight of its object, +for a cheerful, disengaged furtherance, whether present or +absent, of each other's designs. At last they discover that +all which at first drew them together,--those once sacred +features, that magical play of charms,--was deciduous, had +a prospective end, like the scaffolding by which the house +was built; and the purification of the intellect and the +heart from year to year is the real marriage, foreseen and +prepared from the first, and wholly above their consciousness. +Looking at these aims with which two persons, a man and a +woman, so variously and correlatively gifted, are shut up +in one house to spend in the nuptial society forty or fifty +years, I do not wonder at the emphasis with which the heart +prophesies this crisis from early infancy, at the profuse +beauty with which the instincts deck the nuptial bower, and +nature and intellect and art emulate each other in the gifts +and the melody they bring to the epithalamium. + +Thus are we put in training for a love which knows not +sex, nor person, nor partiality, but which seeks virtue +and wisdom everywhere, to the end of increasing virtue +and wisdom. We are by nature observers, and thereby +learners. That is our permanent state. But we are often +made to feel that our affections are but tents of a night. +Though slowly and with pain, the objects of the affections +change, as the objects of thought do. There are moments +when the affections rule and absorb the man and make his +happiness dependent on a person or persons. But in health +the mind is presently seen again,--its overarching vault, +bright with galaxies of immutable lights, and the warm +loves and fears that swept over us as clouds must lose +their finite character and blend with God, to attain their +own perfection. But we need not fear that we can lose any +thing by the progress of the soul. The soul may be trusted +to the end. That which is so beautiful and attractive as +these relations, must be succeeded and supplanted only by +what is more beautiful, and so on for ever. + + + + +FRIENDSHIP. + +A RUDDY drop of manly blood +The surging sea outweighs; +The world uncertain comes and goes, +The lover rooted stays. +I fancied he was fled, +And, after many a year, +Glowed unexhausted kindliness +Like daily sunrise there. +My careful heart was free again,-- +O friend, my bosom said, +Through thee alone the sky is arched, +Through thee the rose is red, +All things through thee take nobler form +And look beyond the earth, +The mill-round of our fate appears +A sun-path in thy worth. +Me too thy nobleness has taught +To master my despair; +The fountains of my hidden life +Are through thy friendship fair. + +VI. +FRIENDSHIP. + +We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken. +Maugre all the selfishness that chills like east winds +the world, the whole human family is bathed with an +element of love like a fine ether. How many persons we +meet in houses, whom we scarcely speak to, whom yet we +honor, and who honor us! How many we see in the street, +or sit with in church, whom, though silently, we warmly +rejoice to be with! Read the language of these wandering +eye-beams. The heart knoweth. + +The effect of the indulgence of this human affection is +a certain cordial exhilaration. In poetry and in common +speech, the emotions of benevolence and complacency which +are felt towards others are likened to the material +effects of fire; so swift, or much more swift, more active, +more cheering, are these fine inward irradiations. From +the highest degree of passionate love to the lowest degree +of good-will, they make the sweetness of life. + +Our intellectual and active powers increase with our +affection. The scholar sits down to write, and all his +years of meditation do not furnish him with one good +thought or happy expression; but it is necessary to +write a letter to a friend,--and forthwith troops of +gentle thoughts invest themselves, on every hand, with +chosen words. See, in any house where virtue and self- +respect abide, the palpitation which the approach of +a stranger causes. A commended stranger is expected +and announced, and an uneasiness betwixt pleasure and +pain invades all the hearts of a household. His arrival +almost brings fear to the good hearts that would welcome +him. The house is dusted, all things fly into their +places, the old coat is exchanged for the new, and they +must get up a dinner if they can. Of a commended stranger, +only the good report is told by others, only the good and +new is heard by us. He stands to us for humanity. He is +what we wish. Having imagined and invested him, we ask +how we should stand related in conversation and action +with such a man, and are uneasy with fear. The same idea +exalts conversation with him. We talk better than we are +wont. We have the nimblest fancy, a richer memory, and +our dumb devil has taken leave for the time. For long +hours we can continue a series of sincere, graceful, +rich communications, drawn from the oldest, secretest +experience, so that they who sit by, of our own kinsfolk +and acquaintance, shall feel a lively surprise at our +unusual powers. But as soon as the stranger begins to +intrude his partialities, his definitions, his defects, +into the conversation, it is all over. He has heard the +first, the last and best he will ever hear from us. He +is no stranger now. Vulgarity, ignorance, misapprehension +are old acquaintances. Now, when he comes, he may get the +order, the dress and the dinner,--but the throbbing of +the heart and the communications of the soul, no more. + +What is so pleasant as these jets of affection which +make a young world for me again? What so delicious +as a just and firm encounter of two, in a thought, in +a feeling? How beautiful, on their approach to this +beating heart, the steps and forms of the gifted and +the true! The moment we indulge our affections, the +earth is metamorphosed; there is no winter and no +night; all tragedies, all ennuis vanish,--all duties +even; nothing fills the proceeding eternity but the +forms all radiant of beloved persons. Let the soul be +assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin +its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone +for a thousand years. + +I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my +friends, the old and the new. Shall I not call God +the Beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in +his gifts? I chide society, I embrace solitude, and +yet I am not so ungrateful as not to see the wise, the +lovely and the noble-minded, as from time to time they +pass my gate. Who hears me, who understands me, becomes +mine,--a possession for all time. Nor is Nature so poor +but she gives me this joy several times, and thus we +weave social threads of our own, a new web of relations; +and, as many thoughts in succession substantiate themselves, +we shall by and by stand in a new world of our own creation, +and no longer strangers and pilgrims in a traditionary globe. +My friends have come to me unsought. The great God gave them +to me. By oldest right, by the divine affinity of virtue +with itself, I find them, or rather not I but the Deity +in me and in them derides and cancels the thick walls of +individual character, relation, age, sex, circumstance, at +which he usually connives, and now makes many one. High +thanks I owe you, excellent lovers, who carry out the world +for me to new and noble depths, and enlarge the meaning of +all my thoughts. These are new poetry of the first Bard,-- +poetry without stop,--hymn, ode and epic, poetry still +flowing, Apollo and the Muses chanting still. Will these +too separate themselves from me again, or some of them? I +know not, but I fear it not; for my relation to them is so +pure, that we hold by simple affinity, and the Genius of my +life being thus social, the same affinity will exert its +energy on whomsoever is as noble as these men and women, +wherever I may be. + +I confess to an extreme tenderness of nature on this +point. It is almost dangerous to me to "crush the sweet +poison of misused wine" of the affections. A new person +is to me a great event and hinders me from sleep. I have +often had fine fancies about persons which have given me +delicious hours; but the joy ends in the day; it yields +no fruit. Thought is not born of it; my action is very +little modified. I must feel pride in my friend's +accomplishments as if they were mine, and a property in +his virtues. I feel as warmly when he is praised, as the +lover when he hears applause of his engaged maiden. We +over-estimate the conscience of our friend. His goodness +seems better than our goodness, his nature finer, his +temptations less. Every thing that is his,--his name, +his form, his dress, books and instruments,--fancy +enhances. Our own thought sounds new and larger from +his mouth. + +Yet the systole and diastole of the heart are not +without their analogy in the ebb and flow of love. +Friendship, like the immortality of the soul, is too +good to be believed. The lover, beholding his maiden, +half knows that she is not verily that which he +worships; and in the golden hour of friendship we are +surprised with shades of suspicion and unbelief. We +doubt that we bestow on our hero the virtues in which +he shines, and afterwards worship the form to which we +have ascribed this divine inhabitation. In strictness, +the soul does not respect men as it respects itself. +In strict science all persons underlie the same +condition of an infinite remoteness. Shall we fear to +cool our love by mining for the metaphysical foundation +of this Elysian temple? Shall I not be as real as the +things I see? If I am, I shall not fear to know them +for what they are. Their essence is not less beautiful +than their appearance, though it needs finer organs +for its apprehension. The root of the plant is not +unsightly to science, though for chaplets and festoons +we cut the stem short. And I must hazard the production +of the bald fact amidst these pleasing reveries, though +it should prove an Egyptian skull at our banquet. A man +who stands united with his thought conceives magnificently +of himself. He is conscious of a universal success, even +though bought by uniform particular failures. No advantages, +no powers, no gold or force, can be any match for +him. I cannot choose but rely on my own poverty more than +on your wealth. I cannot make your consciousness tantamount +to mine. Only the star dazzles; the planet has a faint, +moon-like ray. I hear what you say of the admirable parts +and tried temper of the party you praise, but I see well +that for all his purple cloaks I shall not like him, +unless he is at last a poor Greek like me. I cannot deny +it, O friend, that the vast shadow of the Phenomenal +includes thee also in its pied and painted immensity,-- +thee also, compared with whom all else is shadow. Thou +art not Being, as Truth is, as Justice is,--thou art not +my soul, but a picture and effigy of that. Thou hast come +to me lately, and already thou art seizing thy hat and +cloak. Is it not that the soul puts forth friends as the +tree puts forth leaves, and presently, by the germination +of new buds, extrudes the old leaf? The law of nature is +alternation for evermore. Each electrical state superinduces +the opposite. The soul environs itself with friends that it +may enter into a grander self-acquaintance or solitude; and +it goes alone for a season, that it may exalt its conversation +or society. This method betrays itself along the whole history +of our personal relations. The instinct of affection revives +the hope of union with our mates, and the returning sense of +insulation recalls us from the chase. Thus every man passes +his life in the search after friendship, and if he should +record his true sentiment, he might write a letter like this +to each new candidate for his love:-- + +DEAR FRIEND, + +If I was sure of thee, sure of thy capacity, sure to match +my mood with thine, I should never think again of trifles +in relation to thy comings and goings. I am not very wise; +my moods are quite attainable, and I respect thy genius; +it is to me as yet unfathomed; yet dare I not presume in +thee a perfect intelligence of me, and so thou art to me +a delicious torment. Thine ever, or never. + +Yet these uneasy pleasures and fine pains are for curiosity +and not for life. They are not to be indulged. This is to +weave cobweb, and not cloth. Our friendships hurry to short +and poor conclusions, because we have made them a texture +of wine and dreams, instead of the tough fibre of the human +heart. The laws of friendship are austere and eternal, of +one web with the laws of nature and of morals. But we have +aimed at a swift and petty benefit, to suck a sudden +sweetness. We snatch at the slowest fruit in the whole garden +of God, which many summers and many winters must ripen. We +seek our friend not sacredly, but with an adulterate passion +which would appropriate him to ourselves. In vain. We are +armed all over with subtle antagonisms, which, as soon as +we meet, begin to play, and translate all poetry into stale +prose. Almost all people descend to meet. All association +must be a compromise, and, what is worst, the very flower +and aroma of the flower of each of the beautiful natures +disappears as they approach each other. What a perpetual +disappointment is actual society, even of the virtuous and +gifted! After interviews have been compassed with long +foresight we must be tormented presently by baffled blows, +by sudden, unseasonable apathies, by epilepsies of wit and +of animal spirits, in the heyday of friendship and thought. +Our faculties do not play us true, and both parties are +relieved by solitude. + +I ought to be equal to every relation. It makes no +difference how many friends I have and what content +I can find in conversing with each, if there be one +to whom I am not equal. If I have shrunk unequal from +one contest, the joy I find in all the rest becomes +mean and cowardly. I should hate myself, if then I +made my other friends my asylum:-- + + "The valiant warrior famoused for fight, + After a hundred victories, once foiled, + Is from the book of honor razed quite, + And all the rest forgot for which he toiled." + +Our impatience is thus sharply rebuked. Bashfulness and +apathy are a tough husk in which a delicate organization +is protected from premature ripening. It would be lost +if it knew itself before any of the best souls were yet +ripe enough to know and own it. Respect the naturlangsamkeit +which hardens the ruby in a million years, and works in +duration in which Alps and Andes come and go as rainbows. +The good spirit of our life has no heaven which is the +price of rashness. Love, which is the essence of God, is +not for levity, but for the total worth of man. Let us not +have this childish luxury in our regards, but the austerest +worth; let us approach our friend with an audacious trust +in the truth of his heart, in the breadth, impossible to +be overturned, of his foundations. + +The attractions of this subject are not to be resisted, +and I leave, for the time, all account of subordinate +social benefit, to speak of that select and sacred +relation which is a kind of absolute, and which even +leaves the language of love suspicious and common, so +much is this purer, and nothing is so much divine. + +I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with +roughest courage. When they are real, they are not +glass threads or frostwork, but the solidest thing we +know. For now, after so many ages of experience, what +do we know of nature or of ourselves? Not one step has +man taken toward the solution of the problem of his +destiny. In one condemnation of folly stand the whole +universe of men. But the sweet sincerity of joy and +peace which I draw from this alliance with my brother's +soul is the nut itself whereof all nature and all thought +is but the husk and shell. Happy is the house that +shelters a friend! It might well be built, like a festal +bower or arch, to entertain him a single day. Happier, +if he know the solemnity of that relation and honor its +law! He who offers himself a candidate for that covenant +comes up, like an Olympian, to the great games where the +first-born of the world are the competitors. He proposes +himself for contests where Time, Want, Danger, are in +the lists, and he alone is victor who has truth enough +in his constitution to preserve the delicacy of his +beauty from the wear and tear of all these. The gifts +of fortune may be present or absent, but all the speed +in that contest depends on intrinsic nobleness and the +contempt of trifles. There are two elements that go to +the composition of friendship, each so sovereign that +I can detect no superiority in either, no reason why +either should be first named. One is truth. A friend +is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I +may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence +of a man so real and equal that I may drop even those +undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and +second thought, which men never put off, and may deal +with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which +one chemical atom meets another. Sincerity is the luxury +allowed, like diadems and authority, only to the highest +rank; that being permitted to speak truth, as having +none above it to court or conform unto. Every man alone +is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypocrisy +begins. We parry and fend the approach of our fellow-man +by compliments, by gossip, by amusements, by affairs. We +cover up our thought from him under a hundred folds. I +knew a man who under a certain religious frenzy cast off +this drapery, and omitting all compliment and commonplace, +spoke to the conscience of every person he encountered, +and that with great insight and beauty. At first he was +resisted, and all men agreed he was mad. But persisting-- +as indeed he could not help doing--for some time in this +course, he attained to the advantage of bringing every +man of his acquaintance into true relations with him. No +man would think of speaking falsely with him, or of +putting him off with any chat of markets or reading-rooms. +But every man was constrained by so much sincerity to the +like plaindealing, and what love of nature, what poetry, +what symbol of truth he had, he did certainly show him. +But to most of us society shows not its face and eye, but +its side and its back. To stand in true relations with +men in a false age is worth a fit of insanity, is it not? +We can seldom go erect. Almost every man we meet requires +some civility,--requires to be humored; he has some fame, +some talent, some whim of religion or philanthropy in his +head that is not to be questioned, and which spoils all +conversation with him. But a friend is a sane man who +exercises not my ingenuity, but me. My friend gives me +entertainment without requiring any stipulation on my +part. A friend therefore is a sort of paradox in nature. +I who alone am, I who see nothing in nature whose +existence I can affirm with equal evidence to my own, +behold now the semblance of my being, in all its height, +variety, and curiosity, reiterated in a foreign form; so +that a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of +nature. + +The other element of friendship is tenderness. We are +holden to men by every sort of tie, by blood, by pride, +by fear, by hope, by lucre, by lust, by hate, by +admiration, by every circumstance and badge and trifle, +--but we can scarce believe that so much character can +subsist in another as to draw us by love. Can another +be so blessed and we so pure that we can offer him +tenderness? When a man becomes dear to me I have touched +the goal of fortune. I find very little written directly +to the heart of this matter in books. And yet I have one +text which I cannot choose but remember. My author says, +--"I offer myself faintly and bluntly to those whose I +effectually am, and tender myself least to him to whom I +am the most devoted." I wish that friendship should have +feet, as well as eyes and eloquence. It must plant itself +on the ground, before it vaults over the moon. I wish it +to be a little of a citizen, before it is quite a cherub. +We chide the citizen because he makes love a commodity. +It is an exchange of gifts, of useful loans; it is good +neighborhood; it watches with the sick; it holds the pall +at the funeral; and quite loses sight of the delicacies +and nobility of the relation. But though we cannot find +the god under this disguise of a sutler, yet on the other +hand we cannot forgive the poet if he spins his thread +too fine and does not substantiate his romance by the +municipal virtues of justice, punctuality, fidelity and +pity. I hate the prostitution of the name of friendship +to signify modish and worldly alliances. I much prefer +the company of ploughboys and tin-peddlers to the silken +and perfumed amity which celebrates its days of encounter +by a frivolous display, by rides in a curricle and dinners +at the best taverns. The end of friendship is a commerce +the most strict and homely that can be joined; more strict +than any of which we have experience. It is for aid and +comfort through all the relations and passages of life +and death. It is fit for serene days and graceful gifts +and country rambles, but also for rough roads and hard +fare, shipwreck, poverty, and persecution. It keeps company +with the sallies of the wit and the trances of religion. We +are to dignify to each other the daily needs and offices of +man's life, and embellish it by courage, wisdom and unity. +It should never fall into something usual and settled, but +should be alert and inventive and add rhyme and reason to +what was drudgery. + +Friendship may be said to require natures so rare and +costly, each so well tempered and so happily adapted, +and withal so circumstanced (for even in that particular, +a poet says, love demands that the parties be altogether +paired), that its satisfaction can very seldom be assured. +It cannot subsist in its perfection, say some of those +who are learned in this warm lore of the heart, betwixt +more than two. I am not quite so strict in my terms, +perhaps because I have never known so high a fellowship +as others. I please my imagination more with a circle of +godlike men and women variously related to each other and +between whom subsists a lofty intelligence. But I find +this law of one to one peremptory for conversation, which +is the practice and consummation of friendship. Do not +mix waters too much. The best mix as ill as good and bad. +You shall have very useful and cheering discourse at +several times with two several men, but let all three of +you come together and you shall not have one new and +hearty word. Two may talk and one may hear, but three +cannot take part in a conversation of the most sincere +and searching sort. In good company there is never such +discourse between two, across the table, as takes place +when you leave them alone. In good company the individuals +merge their egotism into a social soul exactly co-extensive +with the several consciousnesses there present. No +partialities of friend to friend, no fondnesses of brother +to sister, of wife to husband, are there pertinent, but +quite otherwise. Only he may then speak who can sail on +the common thought of the party, and not poorly limited +to his own. Now this convention, which good sense demands, +destroys the high freedom of great conversation, which +requires an absolute running of two souls into one. + +No two men but being left alone with each other enter +into simpler relations. Yet it is affinity that determines +which two shall converse. Unrelated men give little joy +to each other, will never suspect the latent powers of +each. We talk sometimes of a great talent for conversation, +as if it were a permanent property in some individuals. +Conversation is an evanescent relation,--no more. A man is +reputed to have thought and eloquence; he cannot, for all +that, say a word to his cousin or his uncle. They accuse +his silence with as much reason as they would blame the +insignificance of a dial in the shade. In the sun it will +mark the hour. Among those who enjoy his thought he will +regain his tongue. + +Friendship requires that rare mean betwixt likeness and +unlikeness that piques each with the presence of power +and of consent in the other party. Let me be alone to +the end of the world, rather than that my friend should +overstep, by a word or a look, his real sympathy. I am +equally balked by antagonism and by compliance. Let him +not cease an instant to be himself. The only joy I have +in his being mine, is that the not mine is mine. I hate, +where I looked for a manly furtherance, or at least a +manly resistance, to find a mush of concession. Better +be a nettle in the side of your friend than his echo. The +condition which high friendship demands is ability to do +without it. That high office requires great and sublime +parts. There must be very two, before there can be very +one. Let it be an alliance of two large, formidable +natures, mutually beheld, mutually feared, before yet +they recognize the deep identity which, beneath these +disparities, unites them. + +He only is fit for this society who is magnanimous; who +is sure that greatness and goodness are always economy; +who is not swift to intermeddle with his fortunes. Let +him not intermeddle with this. Leave to the diamond its +ages to grow, nor expect to accelerate the births of the +eternal. Friendship demands a religious treatment. We +talk of choosing our friends, but friends are self-elected. +Reverence is a great part of it. Treat your friend as a +spectacle. Of course he has merits that are not yours, and +that you cannot honor if you must needs hold him close to +your person. Stand aside; give those merits room; let them +mount and expand. Are you the friend of your friend's +buttons, or of his thought? To a great heart he will still +be a stranger in a thousand particulars, that he may come +near in the holiest ground. Leave it to girls and boys to +regard a friend as property, and to suck a short and all- +confounding pleasure, instead of the noblest benefit. + +Let us buy our entrance to this guild by a long probation. +Why should we desecrate noble and beautiful souls by +intruding on them? Why insist on rash personal relations +with your friend? Why go to his house, or know his mother +and brother and sisters? Why be visited by him at your +own? Are these things material to our covenant? Leave this +touching and clawing. Let him be to me a spirit. A message, +a thought, a sincerity, a glance from him, I want, but not +news, nor pottage. I can get politics and chat and neighborly +conveniences from cheaper companions. Should not the society +of my friend be to me poetic, pure, universal and great as +nature itself? Ought I to feel that our tie is profane in +comparison with yonder bar of cloud that sleeps on the +horizon, or that clump of waving grass that divides the +brook? Let us not vilify, but raise it to that standard. +That great defying eye, that scornful beauty of his mien +and action, do not pique yourself on reducing, but rather +fortify and enhance. Worship his superiorities; wish him +not less by a thought, but hoard and tell them all. Guard +him as thy counterpart. Let him be to thee for ever a sort +of beautiful enemy, untamable, devoutly revered, and not a +trivial conveniency to be soon outgrown and cast aside. +The hues of the opal, the light of the diamond, are not to +be seen if the eye is too near. To my friend I write a +letter and from him I receive a letter. That seems to you +a little. It suffices me. It is a spiritual gift worthy of +him to give and of me to receive. It profanes nobody. In +these warm lines the heart will trust itself, as it will +not to the tongue, and pour out the prophecy of a godlier +existence than all the annals of heroism have yet made good. + +Respect so far the holy laws of this fellowship as not +to prejudice its perfect flower by your impatience +for its opening. We must be our own before we can be +another's. There is at least this satisfaction in crime, +according to the Latin proverb;--you can speak to your +accomplice on even terms. Crimen quos inquinat, aequat. +To those whom we admire and love, at first we cannot. +Yet the least defect of self-possession vitiates, in my +judgment, the entire relation. There can never be deep +peace between two spirits, never mutual respect, until +in their dialogue each stands for the whole world. + +What is so great as friendship, let us carry with what +grandeur of spirit we can. Let us be silent,--so we may +hear the whisper of the gods. Let us not interfere. Who +set you to cast about what you should say to the select +souls, or how to say any thing to such? No matter how +ingenious, no matter how graceful and bland. There are +innumerable degrees of folly and wisdom, and for you to +say aught is to be frivolous. Wait, and thy heart shall +speak. Wait until the necessary and everlasting overpowers +you, until day and night avail themselves of your lips. +The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have +a friend is to be one. You shall not come nearer a man by +getting into his house. If unlike, his soul only flees the +faster from you, and you shall never catch a true glance +of his eye. We see the noble afar off and they repel us; +why should we intrude? Late,--very late,--we perceive that +no arrangements, no introductions, no consuetudes or habits +of society would be of any avail to establish us in such +relations with them as we desire,--but solely the uprise +of nature in us to the same degree it is in them; then +shall we meet as water with water; and if we should not +meet them then, we shall not want them, for we are already +they. In the last analysis, love is only the reflection of +a man's own worthiness from other men. Men have sometimes +exchanged names with their friends, as if they would +signify that in their friend each loved his own soul. + +The higher the style we demand of friendship, of course +the less easy to establish it with flesh and blood. We +walk alone in the world. Friends such as we desire are +dreams and fables. But a sublime hope cheers ever the +faithful heart, that elsewhere, in other regions of the +universal power, souls are now acting, enduring, and +daring, which can love us and which we can love. We may +congratulate ourselves that the period of nonage, of +follies, of blunders and of shame, is passed in solitude, +and when we are finished men we shall grasp heroic hands +in heroic hands. Only be admonished by what you already +see, not to strike leagues of friendship with cheap +persons, where no friendship can be. Our impatience +betrays us into rash and foolish alliances which no god +attends. By persisting in your path, though you forfeit +the little you gain the great. You demonstrate yourself, +so as to put yourself out of the reach of false relations, +and you draw to you the first-born of the world,--those +rare pilgrims whereof only one or two wander in nature at +once, and before whom the vulgar great show as spectres +and shadows merely. + +It is foolish to be afraid of making our ties too +spiritual, as if so we could lose any genuine love. +Whatever correction of our popular views we make from +insight, nature will be sure to bear us out in, and +though it seem to rob us of some joy, will repay us +with a greater. Let us feel if we will the absolute +insulation of man. We are sure that we have all in us. +We go to Europe, or we pursue persons, or we read books, +in the instinctive faith that these will call it out and +reveal us to ourselves. Beggars all. The persons are such +as we; the Europe, an old faded garment of dead persons; +the books, their ghosts. Let us drop this idolatry. Let +us give over this mendicancy. Let us even bid our dearest +friends farewell, and defy them, saying, 'Who are you? +Unhand me: I will be dependent no more.' Ah! seest thou +not, O brother, that thus we part only to meet again on +a higher platform, and only be more each other's because +we are more our own? A friend is Janus-faced; he looks to +the past and the future. He is the child of all my +foregoing hours, the prophet of those to come, and the +harbinger of a greater friend. + +I do then with my friends as I do with my books. I would +have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them. +We must have society on our own terms, and admit or +exclude it on the slightest cause. I cannot afford to +speak much with my friend. If he is great he makes me +so great that I cannot descend to converse. In the great +days, presentiments hover before me in the firmament. I +ought then to dedicate myself to them. I go in that I may +seize them, I go out that I may seize them. I fear only +that I may lose them receding into the sky in which now +they are only a patch of brighter light. Then, though I +prize my friends, I cannot afford to talk with them and +study their visions, lest I lose my own. It would indeed +give me a certain household joy to quit this lofty seeking, +this spiritual astronomy or search of stars, and come down +to warm sympathies with you; but then I know well I shall +mourn always the vanishing of my mighty gods. It is true, +next week I shall have languid moods, when I can well +afford to occupy myself with foreign objects; then I shall +regret the lost literature of your mind, and wish you were +by my side again. But if you come, perhaps you will fill +my mind only with new visions; not with yourself but with +your lustres, and I shall not be able any more than now to +converse with you. So I will owe to my friends this +evanescent intercourse. I will receive from them not what +they have but what they are. They shall give me that which +properly they cannot give, but which emanates from them. +But they shall not hold me by any relations less subtile +and pure. We will meet as though we met not, and part as +though we parted not. + +It has seemed to me lately more possible than I knew, +to carry a friendship greatly, on one side, without +due correspondence on the other. Why should I cumber +myself with regrets that the receiver is not capacious? +It never troubles the sun that some of his rays fall +wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only a small +part on the reflecting planet. Let your greatness +educate the crude and cold companion. If he is unequal +he will presently pass away; but thou art enlarged by +thy own shining, and no longer a mate for frogs and +worms, dost soar and burn with the gods of the empyrean. +It is thought a disgrace to love unrequited. But the +great will see that true love cannot be unrequited. +True love transcends the unworthy object and dwells and +broods on the eternal, and when the poor interposed mask +crumbles, it is not sad, but feels rid of so much earth +and feels its independency the surer. Yet these things +may hardly be said without a sort of treachery to the +relation. The essence of friendship is entireness, a +total magnanimity and trust. It must not surmise or +provide for infirmity. It treats its object as a god, +that it may deify both. + + + + +PRUDENCE. + +THEME no poet gladly sung, +Fair to old and foul to young; +Scorn not thou the love of parts, +And the articles of arts. +Grandeur of the perfect sphere +Thanks the atoms that cohere. + +VII. +PRUDENCE. + +What right have I to write on Prudence, whereof I have +Little, and that of the negative sort? My prudence +consists in avoiding and going without, not in the +inventing of means and methods, not in adroit steering, +not in gentle repairing. I have no skill to make money +spend well, no genius in my economy, and whoever sees +my garden discovers that I must have some other garden. +Yet I love facts, and hate lubricity and people without +perception. Then I have the same title to write on prudence +that I have to write on poetry or holiness. We write from +aspiration and antagonism, as well as from experience. We +paint those qualities which we do not possess. The poet +admires the man of energy and tactics; the merchant breeds +his son for the church or the bar; and where a man is not +vain and egotistic you shall find what he has not by his +praise. Moreover it would be hardly honest in me not to +balance these fine lyric words of Love and Friendship with +words of coarser sound, and whilst my debt to my senses is +real and constant, not to own it in passing. + +Prudence is the virtue of the senses. It is the science +of appearances. It is the outmost action of the inward +life. It is God taking thought for oxen. It moves matter +after the laws of matter. It is content to seek health +of body by complying with physical conditions, and health +of mind by the laws of the intellect. + +The world of the senses is a world of shows; it does not +exist for itself, but has a symbolic character; and a true +prudence or law of shows recognizes the co-presence of other +laws and knows that its own office is subaltern; knows that +it is surface and not centre where it works. Prudence is +false when detached. It is legitimate when it is the Natural +History of the soul incarnate, when it unfolds the beauty +of laws within the narrow scope of the senses. + +There are all degrees of proficiency in knowledge of the +world. It is sufficient to our present purpose to indicate +three. One class live to the utility of the symbol, +esteeming health and wealth a final good. Another class +live above this mark to the beauty of the symbol, as the +poet and artist and the naturalist and man of science. A +third class live above the beauty of the symbol to the +beauty of the thing signified; these are wise men. The +first class have common sense; the second, taste; and the +third, spiritual perception. Once in a long time, a man +traverses the whole scale, and sees and enjoys the symbol +solidly, then also has a clear eye for its beauty, and +lastly, whilst he pitches his tent on this sacred volcanic +isle of nature, does not offer to build houses and barns +thereon,--reverencing the splendor of the God which he +sees bursting through each chink and cranny. + +The world is filled with the proverbs and acts and +winkings of a base prudence, which is a devotion to +matter, as if we possessed no other faculties than +the palate, the nose, the touch, the eye and ear; a +prudence which adores the Rule of Three, which never +subscribes, which never gives, which seldom lends, +and asks but one question of any project,--Will it +bake bread? This is a disease like a thickening of +the skin until the vital organs are destroyed. But +culture, revealing the high origin of the apparent +world and aiming at the perfection of the man as the +end, degrades every thing else, as health and bodily +life, into means. It sees prudence not to be a several +faculty, but a name for wisdom and virtue conversing +with the body and its wants. Cultivated men always feel +and speak so, as if a great fortune, the achievement of +a civil or social measure, great personal influence, a +graceful and commanding address, had their value as +proofs of the energy of the spirit. If a man lose his +balance and immerse himself in any trades or pleasures +for their own sake, he may be a good wheel or pin, but +he is not a cultivated man. + +The spurious prudence, making the senses final, is the +god of sots and cowards, and is the subject of all +comedy. It is nature's joke, and therefore literature's. +The true prudence limits this sensualism by admitting +the knowledge of an internal and real world. This +recognition once made, the order of the world and the +distribution of affairs and times, being studied with +the co-perception of their subordinate place, will +reward any degree of attention. For our existence, thus +apparently attached in nature to the sun and the returning +moon and the periods which they mark,--so susceptible to +climate and to country, so alive to social good and evil, +so fond of splendor and so tender to hunger and cold and +debt,--reads all its primary lessons out of these books. + +Prudence does not go behind nature and ask whence it is. +It takes the laws of the world whereby man's being is +conditioned, as they are, and keeps these laws that it +may enjoy their proper good. It respects space and time, +climate, want, sleep, the law of polarity, growth and +death. There revolve, to give bound and period to his +being on all sides, the sun and moon, the great formalists +in the sky: here lies stubborn matter, and will not swerve +from its chemical routine. Here is a planted globe, pierced +and belted with natural laws and fenced and distributed +externally with civil partitions and properties which impose +new restraints on the young inhabitant. + +We eat of the bread which grows in the field. We live by +the air which blows around us and we are poisoned by the +air that is too cold or too hot, too dry or too wet. Time, +which shows so vacant, indivisible and divine in its coming, +is slit and peddled into trifles and tatters. A door is to +be painted, a lock to be repaired. I want wood or oil, or +meal or salt; the house smokes, or I have a headache; then +the tax, and an affair to be transacted with a man without +heart or brains, and the stinging recollection of an +injurious or very awkward word,--these eat up the hours. +Do what we can, summer will have its flies; if we walk in +the woods we must feed mosquitos; if we go a-fishing we +must expect a wet coat. Then climate is a great impediment +to idle persons; we often resolve to give up the care of the +weather, but still we regard the clouds and the rain. + +We are instructed by these petty experiences which usurp +the hours and years. The hard soil and four months of +snow make the inhabitant of the northern temperate zone +wiser and abler than his fellow who enjoys the fixed +smile of the tropics. The islander may ramble all day +at will. At night he may sleep on a mat under the moon, +and wherever a wild date-tree grows, nature has, without +a prayer even, spread a table for his morning meal. The +northerner is perforce a householder. He must brew, bake, +salt and preserve his food, and pile wood and coal. But +as it happens that not one stroke can labor lay to without +some new acquaintance with nature, and as nature is +inexhaustibly significant, the inhabitants of these +climates have always excelled the southerner in force. +Such is the value of these matters that a man who knows +other things can never know too much of these. Let him +have accurate perceptions. Let him, if he have hands, +handle; if eyes, measure and discriminate; let him accept +and hive every fact of chemistry, natural history and +economics; the more he has, the less is he willing to +spare any one. Time is always bringing the occasions that +disclose their value. Some wisdom comes out of every +natural and innocent action. The domestic man, who loves +no music so well as his kitchen clock and the airs which +the logs sing to him as they burn on the hearth, has +solaces which others never dream of. The application of +means to ends insures victory and the songs of victory not +less in a farm or a shop than in the tactics of party or +of war. The good husband finds method as efficient in the +packing of fire-wood in a shed or in the harvesting of +fruits in the cellar, as in Peninsular campaigns or the +files of the Department of State. In the rainy day he +builds a work-bench, or gets his tool-box set in the corner +of the barn-chamber, and stored with nails, gimlet, pincers, +screwdriver and chisel. Herein he tastes an old joy of youth +and childhood, the cat-like love of garrets, presses and +corn-chambers, and of the conveniences of long housekeeping. +His garden or his poultry-yard tells him many pleasant +anecdotes. One might find argument for optimism in the +abundant flow of this saccharine element of pleasure in +every suburb and extremity of the good world. Let a man +keep the law,--any law,--and his way will be strown with +satisfactions. There is more difference in the quality of +our pleasures than in the amount. + +On the other hand, nature punishes any neglect of prudence. +If you think the senses final, obey their law. If you +believe in the soul, do not clutch at sensual sweetness +before it is ripe on the slow tree of cause and effect. +It is vinegar to the eyes to deal with men of loose and +imperfect perception. Dr. Johnson is reported to have said, +--"If the child says he looked out of this window, when he +looked out of that,--whip him." Our American character is +marked by a more than average delight in accurate perception, +which is shown by the currency of the byword, "No mistake." +But the discomfort of unpunctuality, of confusion of thought +about facts, of inattention to the wants of to-morrow, is +of no nation. The beautiful laws of time and space, once +dislocated by our inaptitude, are holes and dens. If the +hive be disturbed by rash and stupid hands, instead of honey +it will yield us bees. Our words and actions to be fair must +be timely. A gay and pleasant sound is the whetting of the +scythe in the mornings of June, yet what is more lonesome +and sad than the sound of a whetstone or mower's rifle when +it is too late in the season to make hay? Scatter-brained +and "afternoon" men spoil much more than their own affair +in spoiling the temper of those who deal with them. I have +seen a criticism on some paintings, of which I am reminded +when I see the shiftless and unhappy men who are not true +to their senses. The last Grand Duke of Weimar, a man of +superior understanding, said,--"I have sometimes remarked +in the presence of great works of art, and just now +especially in Dresden, how much a certain property +contributes to the effect which gives life to the figures, +and to the life an irresistible truth. This property is +the hitting, in all the figures we draw, the right centre +of gravity. I mean the placing the figures firm upon their +feet, making the hands grasp, and fastening the eyes on +the spot where they should look. Even lifeless figures, as +vessels and stools--let them be drawn ever so correctly-- +lose all effect so soon as they lack the resting upon their +centre of gravity, and have a certain swimming and oscillating +appearance. The Raphael in the Dresden gallery (the only +greatly affecting picture which I have seen) is the quietest +and most passionless piece you can imagine; a couple of saints +who worship the Virgin and Child. Nevertheless, it awakens a +deeper impression than the contortions of ten crucified +martyrs. For beside all the resistless beauty of form, it +possesses in the highest degree the property of the +perpendicularity of all the figures." This perpendicularity +we demand of all the figures in this picture of life. Let +them stand on their feet, and not float and swing. Let us +know where to find them. Let them discriminate between what +they remember and what they dreamed, call a spade a spade, +give us facts, and honor their own senses with trust. + +But what man shall dare tax another with imprudence? +Who is prudent? The men we call greatest are least in +this kingdom. There is a certain fatal dislocation in +our relation to nature, distorting our modes of living +and making every law our enemy, which seems at last to +have aroused all the wit and virtue in the world to +ponder the question of Reform. We must call the highest +prudence to counsel, and ask why health and beauty and +genius should now be the exception rather than the rule +of human nature? We do not know the properties of plants +and animals and the laws of nature, through our sympathy +with the same; but this remains the dream of poets. Poetry +and prudence should be coincident. Poets should be +lawgivers; that is, the boldest lyric inspiration should +not chide and insult, but should announce and lead the +civil code and the day's work. But now the two things seem +irreconcilably parted. We have violated law upon law until +we stand amidst ruins, and when by chance we espy a +coincidence between reason and the phenomena, we are +surprised. Beauty should be the dowry of every man and +woman, as invariably as sensation; but it is rare. Health +or sound organization should be universal. Genius should +be the child of genius and every child should be inspired; +but now it is not to be predicted of any child, and nowhere +is it pure. We call partial half-lights, by courtesy, +genius; talent which converts itself to money; talent which +glitters to-day that it may dine and sleep well to-morrow; +and society is officered by men of parts, as they are properly +called, and not by divine men. These use their gifts to refine +luxury, not to abolish it. Genius is always ascetic, and piety, +and love. Appetite shows to the finer souls as a disease, and +they find beauty in rites and bounds that resist it. + +We have found out fine names to cover our sensuality +withal, but no gifts can raise intemperance. The man +of talent affects to call his transgressions of the +laws of the senses trivial and to count them nothing +considered with his devotion to his art. His art never +taught him lewdness, nor the love of wine, nor the +wish to reap where he had not sowed. His art is less +for every deduction from his holiness, and less for +every defect of common sense. On him who scorned the +world as he said, the scorned world wreaks its revenge. +He that despiseth small things will perish by little +and little. Goethe's Tasso is very likely to be a +pretty fair historical portrait, and that is true +tragedy. It does not seem to me so genuine grief when +some tyrannous Richard the Third oppresses and slays a +score of innocent persons, as when Antonio and Tasso, +both apparently right, wrong each other. One living +after the maxims of this world and consistent and true +to them, the other fired with all divine sentiments, +yet grasping also at the pleasures of sense, without +submitting to their law. That is a grief we all feel, +a knot we cannot untie. Tasso's is no infrequent case +in modern biography. A man of genius, of an ardent +temperament, reckless of physical laws, self-indulgent, +becomes presently unfortunate, querulous, a "discomfortable +cousin," a thorn to himself and to others. + +The scholar shames us by his bifold life. Whilst +something higher than prudence is active, he is +admirable; when common sense is wanted, he is an +encumbrance. Yesterday, Caesar was not so great; +to-day, the felon at the gallows' foot is not more +miserable. Yesterday, radiant with the light of an +ideal world in which he lives, the first of men; and +now oppressed by wants and by sickness, for which he +must thank himself. He resembles the pitiful drivellers +whom travellers describe as frequenting the bazaars of +Constantinople, who skulk about all day, yellow, +emaciated, ragged, sneaking; and at evening, when the +bazaars are open, slink to the opium-shop, swallow their +morsel and become tranquil and glorified seers. And who +has not seen the tragedy of imprudent genius struggling +for years with paltry pecuniary difficulties, at last +sinking, chilled, exhausted and fruitless, like a giant +slaughtered by pins? + +Is it not better that a man should accept the first +pains and mortifications of this sort, which nature +is not slack in sending him, as hints that he must +expect no other good than the just fruit of his own +labor and self-denial? Health, bread, climate, social +position, have their importance, and he will give them +their due. Let him esteem Nature a perpetual counsellor, +and her perfections the exact measure of our deviations. +Let him make the night night, and the day day. Let him +control the habit of expense. Let him see that as much +wisdom may be expended on a private economy as on an +empire, and as much wisdom may be drawn from it. The +laws of the world are written out for him on every +piece of money in his hand. There is nothing he will +not be the better for knowing, were it only the wisdom +of Poor Richard, or the State-Street prudence of buying +by the acre to sell by the foot; or the thrift of the +agriculturist, to stick a tree between whiles, because +it will grow whilst he sleeps; or the prudence which +consists in husbanding little strokes of the tool, +little portions of time, particles of stock and small +gains. The eye of prudence may never shut. Iron, if kept +at the ironmonger's, will rust; beer, if not brewed in +the right state of the atmosphere, will sour; timber of +ships will rot at sea, or if laid up high and dry, will +strain, warp and dry-rot; money, if kept by us, yields +no rent and is liable to loss; if invested, is liable to +depreciation of the particular kind of stock. Strike, +says the smith, the iron is white; keep the rake, says +the haymaker, as nigh the scythe as you can, and the cart +as nigh the rake. Our Yankee trade is reputed to be very +much on the extreme of this prudence. It takes bank-notes, +good, bad, clean, ragged, and saves itself by the speed +with which it passes them off. Iron cannot rust, nor beer +sour, nor timber rot, nor calicoes go out of fashion, nor +money stocks depreciate, in the few swift moments in which +the Yankee suffers any one of them to remain in his +possession. In skating over thin ice our safety is in our +speed. + +Let him learn a prudence of a higher strain. Let him +learn that every thing in nature, even motes and +feathers, go by law and not by luck, and that what he +sows he reaps. By diligence and self-command let him +put the bread he eats at his own disposal, that he may +not stand in bitter and false relations to other men; +for the best good of wealth is freedom. Let him practise +the minor virtues. How much of human life is lost in +waiting! let him not make his fellow-creatures wait. How +many words and promises are promises of conversation! +Let his be words of fate. When he sees a folded and sealed +scrap of paper float round the globe in a pine ship and +come safe to the eye for which it was written, amidst a +swarming population, let him likewise feel the admonition +to integrate his being across all these distracting forces, +and keep a slender human word among the storms, distances +and accidents that drive us hither and thither, and, by +persistency, make the paltry force of one man reappear to +redeem its pledge after months and years in the most distant +climates. + +We must not try to write the laws of any one virtue, +looking at that only. Human nature loves no contradictions, +but is symmetrical. The prudence which secures an outward +well-being is not to be studied by one set of men, whilst +heroism and holiness are studied by another, but they are +reconcilable. Prudence concerns the present time, persons, +property and existing forms. But as every fact hath its +roots in the soul, and if the soul were changed, would cease +to be, or would become some other thing,--the proper +administration of outward things will always rest on a just +apprehension of their cause and origin; that is, the good +man will be the wise man, and the single-hearted the politic +man. Every violation of truth is not only a sort of suicide +in the liar, but is a stab at the health of human society. +On the most profitable lie the course of events presently +lays a destructive tax; whilst frankness invites frankness, +puts the parties on a convenient footing and makes their +business a friendship. Trust men and they will be true to +you; treat them greatly and they will show themselves great, +though they make an exception in your favor to all their +rules of trade. + +So, in regard to disagreeable and formidable things, +prudence does not consist in evasion or in flight, but +in courage. He who wishes to walk in the most peaceful +parts of life with any serenity must screw himself up +to resolution. Let him front the object of his worst +apprehension, and his stoutness will commonly make his +fear groundless. The Latin proverb says, "In battles the +eye is first overcome." Entire self-possession may make +a battle very little more dangerous to life than a match +at foils or at football. Examples are cited by soldiers +of men who have seen the cannon pointed and the fire given +to it, and who have stepped aside from the path of the ball. +The terrors of the storm are chiefly confined to the parlor +and the cabin. The drover, the sailor, buffets it all day, +and his health renews itself at as vigorous a pulse under +the sleet as under the sun of June. + +In the occurrence of unpleasant things among neighbors, +fear comes readily to heart and magnifies the consequence +of the other party; but it is a bad counsellor. Every man +is actually weak and apparently strong. To himself he +seems weak; to others, formidable. You are afraid of Grim; +but Grim also is afraid of you. You are solicitous of the +good-will of the meanest person, uneasy at his ill-will. +But the sturdiest offender of your peace and of the +neighborhood, if you rip up his claims, is as thin and +timid as any, and the peace of society is often kept, +because, as children say, one is afraid, and the other +dares not. Far off, men swell, bully and threaten; bring +them hand to hand, and they are a feeble folk. + +It is a proverb that 'courtesy costs nothing'; but +calculation might come to value love for its profit. +Love is fabled to be blind, but kindness is necessary +to perception; love is not a hood, but an eye-water. +If you meet a sectary or a hostile partisan, never +recognize the dividing lines, but meet on what common +ground remains,--if only that the sun shines and the +rain rains for both; the area will widen very fast, +and ere you know it, the boundary mountains on which +the eye had fastened have melted into air. If they +set out to contend, Saint Paul will lie and Saint John +will hate. What low, poor, paltry, hypocritical people +an argument on religion will make of the pure and chosen +souls! They will shuffle and crow, crook and hide, feign +to confess here, only that they may brag and conquer +there, and not a thought has enriched either party, and +not an emotion of bravery, modesty, or hope. So neither +should you put yourself in a false position with your +contemporaries by indulging a vein of hostility and +bitterness. Though your views are in straight antagonism +to theirs, assume an identity of sentiment, assume that +you are saying precisely that which all think, and in the +flow of wit and love roll out your paradoxes in solid +column, with not the infirmity of a doubt. So at least +shall you get an adequate deliverance. The natural motions +of the soul are so much better than the voluntary ones that +you will never do yourself justice in dispute. The thought +is not then taken hold of by the right handle, does not show +itself proportioned and in its true bearings, but bears +extorted, hoarse, and half witness. But assume a consent and +it shall presently be granted, since really and underneath +their external diversities, all men are of one heart and +mind. + +Wisdom will never let us stand with any man or men on +an unfriendly footing. We refuse sympathy and intimacy +with people, as if we waited for some better sympathy +and intimacy to come. But whence and when? To-morrow +will be like to-day. Life wastes itself whilst we are +preparing to live. Our friends and fellow-workers die +off from us. Scarcely can we say we see new men, new +women, approaching us. We are too old to regard fashion, +too old to expect patronage of any greater or more powerful. +Let us suck the sweetness of those affections and consuetudes +that grow near us. These old shoes are easy to the feet. +Undoubtedly we can easily pick faults in our company, can +easily whisper names prouder, and that tickle the fancy more. +Every man's imagination hath its friends; and life would be +dearer with such companions. But if you cannot have them on +good mutual terms, you cannot have them. If not the Deity +but our ambition hews and shapes the new relations, their +virtue escapes, as strawberries lose their flavor in garden-beds. + +Thus truth, frankness, courage, love, humility and all +the virtues range themselves on the side of prudence, +or the art of securing a present well-being. I do not +know if all matter will be found to be made of one +element, as oxygen or hydrogen, at last, but the world +of manners and actions is wrought of one stuff, and +begin where we will we are pretty sure in a short space +to be mumbling our ten commandments. + + + + +HEROISM. + +"Paradise is under the shadow of swords." + Mahomet. + +RUBY wine is drunk by knaves, +Sugar spends to fatten slaves, +Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; +Thunderclouds are Jove's festoons, +Drooping oft in wreaths of dread +Lightning-knotted round his head; +The hero is not fed on sweets, +Daily his own heart he eats; +Chambers of the great are jails, +And head-winds right for royal sails. + + +VIII. +HEROISM. + +In the elder English dramatists, and mainly in the plays +Of Beaumont and Fletcher, there is a constant recognition +of gentility, as if a noble behavior were as easily marked +in the society of their age as color is in our American +population. When any Rodrigo, Pedro or Valerio enters, +though he be a stranger, the duke or governor exclaims, +'This is a gentleman,--and proffers civilities without +end; but all the rest are slag and refuse. In harmony +with this delight in personal advantages there is in +their plays a certain heroic cast of character and dialogue, +--as in Bonduca, Sophocles, the Mad Lover, the Double +Marriage,--wherein the speaker is so earnest and cordial +and on such deep grounds of character, that the dialogue, +on the slightest additional incident in the plot, rises +naturally into poetry. Among many texts take the following. +The Roman Martius has conquered Athens,--all but the +invincible spirits of Sophocles, the duke of Athens, and +Dorigen, his wife. The beauty of the latter inflames +Martius, and he seeks to save her husband; but Sophocles +will not ask his life, although assured that a word will +save him, and the execution of both proceeds:-- + +Valerius. Bid thy wife farewell. + +Soph_. No, I will take no leave. My Dorigen, +Yonder, above, 'bout Ariadne's crown, +My spirit shall hover for thee. Prithee, haste. + +Dor. Stay, Sophocles,--with this tie up my sight; +Let not soft nature so transformed be, +And lose her gentler sexed humanity, +To make me see my lord bleed. So, 'tis well; +Never one object underneath the sun +Will I behold before my Sophocles: +Farewell; now teach the Romans how to die. + +Mar. Dost know what 't is to die? + +Soph. Thou dost not, Martius, +And, therefore, not what 'tis to live; to die +Is to begin to live. It is to end +An old, stale, weary work, and to commence +A newer and a better. 'Tis to leave +Deceitful knaves for the society +Of gods and goodness. Thou thyself must part +At last from all thy garlands, pleasures, triumphs, +And prove thy fortitude what then 't will do. + +Val. But art not grieved nor vexed to leave thy life thus? + +Soph. Why should I grieve or vex for being sent +To them I ever loved best? Now I'll kneel, +But with my back toward thee; 'tis the last duty +This trunk can do the gods. + +Mar. Strike, strike, Valerius, +Or Martius' heart will leap out at his mouth. +This is a man, a woman. Kiss thy lord, +And live with all the freedom you were wont. +O love! thou doubly hast afflicted me +With virtue and with beauty. Treacherous heart, +My hand shall cast thee quick into my urn, +Ere thou transgress this knot of piety. + +Val. What ails my brother? + +Soph. Martius, O Martius, +Thou now hast found a way to conquer me. + +Dor. O star of Rome! what gratitude can speak +Fit words to follow such a deed as this? + +Mar. This admirable duke, Valerius, +With his disdain of fortune and of death, +Captived himself, has captivated me, +And though my arm hath ta'en his body here, +His soul hath subjugated Martius' soul. +By Romulus, he is all soul, I think; +He hath no flesh, and spirit cannot be gyved; +Then we have vanquished nothing; he is free, +And Martius walks now in captivity." + +I do not readily remember any poem, play, sermon, novel, +or oration that our press vents in the last few years, +which goes to the same tune. We have a great many flutes +and flageolets, but not often the sound of any fife. Yet, +Wordsworth's "Laodamia," and the ode of "Dion," and some +sonnets, have a certain noble music; and Scott will +sometimes draw a stroke like the portrait of Lord Evandale +given by Balfour of Burley. Thomas Carlyle, with his natural +taste for what is manly and daring in character, has suffered +no heroic trait in his favorites to drop from his biographical +and historical pictures. Earlier, Robert Burns has given us +a song or two. In the Harleian Miscellanies there is an +account of the battle of Lutzen which deserves to be read. +And Simon Ockley's History of the Saracens recounts the +prodigies of individual valor, with admiration all the more +evident on the part of the narrator that he seems to think +that his place in Christian Oxford requires of him some +proper protestations of abhorrence. But if we explore the +literature of Heroism we shall quickly come to Plutarch, +who is its Doctor and historian. To him we owe the Brasidas, +the Dion, the Epaminondas, the Scipio of old, and I must +think we are more deeply indebted to him than to all the +ancient writers. Each of his "Lives" is a refutation to the +despondency and cowardice of our religious and political +theorists. A wild courage, a Stoicism not of the schools +but of the blood, shines in every anecdote, and has given +that book its immense fame. + +We need books of this tart cathartic virtue more than +books of political science or of private economy. Life +is a festival only to the wise. Seen from the nook and +chimney-side of prudence, it wears a ragged and dangerous +front. The violations of the laws of nature by our +predecessors and our contemporaries are punished in us +also. The disease and deformity around us certify the +infraction of natural, intellectual, and moral laws, and +often violation on violation to breed such compound +misery. A lock-jaw that bends a man's head back to his +heels; hydrophobia that makes him bark at his wife and +babes; insanity that makes him eat grass; war, plague, +cholera, famine, indicate a certain ferocity in nature, +which, as it had its inlet by human crime, must have its +outlet by human suffering. Unhappily no man exists who +has not in his own person become to some amount a stockholder +in the sin, and so made himself liable to a share in the +expiation. + +Our culture therefore must not omit the arming of the +man. Let him hear in season that he is born into the +state of war, and that the commonwealth and his own +well-being require that he should not go dancing in +the weeds of peace, but warned, self-collected and +neither defying nor dreading the thunder, let him take +both reputation and life in his hand, and, with perfect +urbanity dare the gibbet and the mob by the absolute +truth of his speech and the rectitude of his behavior. + +Towards all this external evil the man within the breast +assumes a warlike attitude, and affirms his ability to +cope single-handed with the infinite army of enemies. To +this military attitude of the soul we give the name of +Heroism. Its rudest form is the contempt for safety and +ease, which makes the attractiveness of war. It is a +self-trust which slights the restraints of prudence, in +the plenitude of its energy and power to repair the harms +it may suffer. The hero is a mind of such balance that no +disturbances can shake his will, but pleasantly and as it +were merrily he advances to his own music, alike in +frightful alarms and in the tipsy mirth of universal +dissoluteness. There is somewhat not philosophical in +heroism; there is somewhat not holy in it; it seems not +to know that other souls are of one texture with it; it +has pride; it is the extreme of individual nature. +Nevertheless we must profoundly revere it. There is +somewhat in great actions which does not allow us to +go behind them. Heroism feels and never reasons, and +therefore is always right; and although a different +breeding, different religion and greater intellectual +activity would have modified or even reversed the +particular action, yet for the hero that thing he does +is the highest deed, and is not open to the censure of +philosophers or divines. It is the avowal of the unschooled +man that he finds a quality in him that is negligent of +expense, of health, of life, of danger, of hatred, of +reproach, and knows that his will is higher and more +excellent than all actual and all possible antagonists. + +Heroism works in contradiction to the voice of mankind +and in contradiction, for a time, to the voice of the +great and good. Heroism is an obedience to a secret +impulse of an individual's character. Now to no other +man can its wisdom appear as it does to him, for every +man must be supposed to see a little farther on his own +proper path than any one else. Therefore just and wise +men take umbrage at his act, until after some little +time be past: then they see it to be in unison with their +acts. All prudent men see that the action is clean +contrary to a sensual prosperity; for every heroic act +measures itself by its contempt of some external good. +But it finds its own success at last, and then the +prudent also extol. + +Self-trust is the essence of heroism. It is the state +of the soul at war, and its ultimate objects are the +last defiance of falsehood and wrong, and the power to +bear all that can be inflicted by evil agents. It speaks +the truth and it is just, generous, hospitable, temperate, +scornful of petty calculations and scornful of being +scorned. It persists; it is of an undaunted boldness and +of a fortitude not to be wearied out. Its jest is the +littleness of common life. That false prudence which +dotes on health and wealth is the butt and merriment of +heroism. Heroism, like Plotinus, is almost ashamed of its +body. What shall it say then to the sugar-plums and +cats'-cradles, to the toilet, compliments, quarrels, cards +and custard, which rack the wit of all society? What joys +has kind nature provided for us dear creatures! There +seems to be no interval between greatness and meanness. +When the spirit is not master of the world, then it is +its dupe. Yet the little man takes the great hoax so +innocently, works in it so headlong and believing, is +born red, and dies gray, arranging his toilet, attending +on his own health, laying traps for sweet food and strong +wine, setting his heart on a horse or a rifle, made happy +with a little gossip or a little praise, that the great +soul cannot choose but laugh at such earnest nonsense. +"Indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love +with greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to take note +how many pairs of silk stockings thou hast, namely, these +and those that were the peach-colored ones; or to bear the +inventory of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one +other for use!" + +Citizens, thinking after the laws of arithmetic, +consider the inconvenience of receiving strangers at +their fireside, reckon narrowly the loss of time and +the unusual display; the soul of a better quality +thrusts back the unseasonable economy into the vaults +of life, and says, I will obey the God, and the +sacrifice and the fire he will provide. Ibn Hankal, +the Arabian geographer, describes a heroic extreme in +the hospitality of Sogd, in Bukharia. "When I was in +Sogd I saw a great building, like a palace, the gates +of which were open and fixed back to the wall with +large nails. I asked the reason, and was told that the +house had not been shut, night or day, for a hundred +years. Strangers may present themselves at any hour +and in whatever number; the master has amply provided +for the reception of the men and their animals, and is +never happier than when they tarry for some time. +Nothing of the kind have I seen in any other country." +The magnanimous know very well that they who give time, +or money, or shelter, to the stranger,--so it be done +for love and not for ostentation,--do, as it were, put +God under obligation to them, so perfect are the +compensations of the universe. In some way the time +they seem to lose is redeemed and the pains they seem +to take remunerate themselves. These men fan the flame +of human love and raise the standard of civil virtue +among mankind. But hospitality must be for service and +not for show, or it pulls down the host. The brave soul +rates itself too high to value itself by the splendor +of its table and draperies. It gives what it hath, and +all it hath, but its own majesty can lend a better grace +to bannocks and fair water than belong to city feasts. + +The temperance of the hero proceeds from the same wish +to do no dishonor to the worthiness he has. But he +loves it for its elegancy, not for its austerity. It +seems not worth his while to be solemn and denounce with +bitterness flesh-eating or wine-drinking, the use of +tobacco, or opium, or tea, or silk, or gold. A great man +scarcely knows how he dines, how he dresses; but without +railing or precision his living is natural and poetic. +John Eliot, the Indian Apostle, drank water, and said of +wine,--"It is a noble, generous liquor and we should be +humbly thankful for it, but, as I remember, water was +made before it." Better still is the temperance of King +David, who poured out on the ground unto the Lord the water +which three of his warriors had brought him to drink, at +the peril of their lives. + +It is told of Brutus, that when he fell on his sword +after the battle of Philippi, he quoted a line of +Euripides,--"O Virtue! I have followed thee through +life, and I find thee at last but a shade." I doubt +not the hero is slandered by this report. The heroic +soul does not sell its justice and its nobleness. It +does not ask to dine nicely and to sleep warm. The +essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is +enough. Poverty is its ornament. It does not need +plenty, and can very well abide its loss. + +But that which takes my fancy most in the heroic class, +is the good-humor and hilarity they exhibit. It is a +height to which common duty can very well attain, to +suffer and to dare with solemnity. But these rare souls +set opinion, success, and life at so cheap a rate that +they will not soothe their enemies by petitions, or the +show of sorrow, but wear their own habitual greatness. +Scipio, charged with peculation, refuses to do himself +so great a disgrace as to wait for justification, though +he had the scroll of his accounts in his hands, but tears +it to pieces before the tribunes. Socrates's condemnation +of himself to be maintained in all honor in the Prytaneum, +during his life, and Sir Thomas More's playfulness at the +scaffold, are of the same strain. In Beaumont and Fletcher's +"Sea Voyage," Juletta tells the stout captain and his +company,-- + + Jul. Why, slaves, 'tis in our power to hang ye. + Master. Very likely, + 'Tis in our powers, then, to be hanged, and scorn ye. + +These replies are sound and whole. Sport is the bloom +and glow of a perfect health. The great will not +condescend to take any thing seriously; all must be as +gay as the song of a canary, though it were the building +of cities or the eradication of old and foolish churches +and nations which have cumbered the earth long thousands +of years. Simple hearts put all the history and customs +of this world behind them, and play their own game in +innocent defiance of the Blue-Laws of the world; and such +would appear, could we see the human race assembled in +vision, like little children frolicking together, though +to the eyes of mankind at large they wear a stately and +solemn garb of works and influences. + +The interest these fine stories have for us, the power +of a romance over the boy who grasps the forbidden book +under his bench at school, our delight in the hero, is +the main fact to our purpose. All these great and +transcendent properties are ours. If we dilate in +beholding the Greek energy, the Roman pride, it is that +we are already domesticating the same sentiment. Let us +find room for this great guest in our small houses. The +first step of worthiness will be to disabuse us of our +superstitious associations with places and times, with +number and size. Why should these words, Athenian, Roman, +Asia and England, so tingle in the ear? Where the heart +is, there the muses, there the gods sojourn, and not in +any geography of fame. Massachusetts, Connecticut River +and Boston Bay you think paltry places, and the ear loves +names of foreign and classic topography. But here we are; +and, if we will tarry a little, we may come to learn that +here is best. See to it only that thyself is here, and art +and nature, hope and fate, friends, angels and the Supreme +Being shall not be absent from the chamber where thou +sittest. Epaminondas, brave and affectionate, does not +seem to us to need Olympus to die upon, nor the Syrian +sunshine. He lies very well where he is. The Jerseys were +handsome ground enough for Washington to tread, and London +streets for the feet of Milton. A great man makes his +climate genial in the imagination of men, and its air the +beloved element of all delicate spirits. That country is +the fairest which is inhabited by the noblest minds. The +pictures which fill the imagination in reading the actions +of Pericles, Xenophon, Columbus, Bayard, Sidney, Hampden, +teach us how needlessly mean our life is; that we, by the +depth of our living, should deck it with more than regal +or national splendor, and act on principles that should +interest man and nature in the length of our days. + +We have seen or heard of many extraordinary young men +who never ripened, or whose performance in actual life +was not extraordinary. When we see their air and mien, +when we hear them speak of society, of books, of religion, +we admire their superiority; they seem to throw contempt +on our entire polity and social state; theirs is the tone +of a youthful giant who is sent to work revolutions. But +they enter an active profession and the forming Colossus +shrinks to the common size of man. The magic they used +was the ideal tendencies, which always make the Actual +ridiculous; but the tough world had its revenge the +moment they put their horses of the sun to plough in its +furrow. They found no example and no companion, and their +heart fainted. What then? The lesson they gave in their +first aspirations is yet true; and a better valor and a +purer truth shall one day organize their belief. Or why +should a woman liken herself to any historical woman, +and think, because Sappho, or Sevigne, or De Stael, or +the cloistered souls who have had genius and cultivation +do not satisfy the imagination and the serene Themis, +none can,--certainly not she? Why not? She has a new and +unattempted problem to solve, perchance that of the +happiest nature that ever bloomed. Let the maiden, with +erect soul, walk serenely on her way, accept the hint of +each new experience, search in turn all the objects that +solicit her eye, that she may learn the power and the +charm of her new-born being, which is the kindling of a +new dawn in the recesses of space. The fair girl who +repels interference by a decided and proud choice of +influences, so careless of pleasing, so wilful and lofty, +inspires every beholder with somewhat of her own nobleness. +The silent heart encourages her; O friend, never strike +sail to a fear! Come into port greatly, or sail with God +the seas. Not in vain you live, for every passing eye is +cheered and refined by the vision. + +The characteristic of heroism is its persistency. All +men have wandering impulses, fits and starts of +generosity. But when you have chosen your part, abide +by it, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself +with the world. The heroic cannot be the common, nor +the common the heroic. Yet we have the weakness to +expect the sympathy of people in those actions whose +excellence is that they outrun sympathy and appeal to +a tardy justice. If you would serve your brother, +because it is fit for you to serve him, do not take +back your words when you find that prudent people do +not commend you. Adhere to your own act, and congratulate +yourself if you have done something strange and extravagant +and broken the monotony of a decorous age. It was a high +counsel that I once heard given to a young person,--"Always +do what you are afraid to do." A simple manly character +need never make an apology, but should regard its past +action with the calmness of Phocion, when he admitted that +the event of the battle was happy, yet did not regret his +dissuasion from the battle. + +There is no weakness or exposure for which we cannot +find consolation in the thought--this is a part of my +constitution, part of my relation and office to my +fellow-creature. Has nature covenanted with me that I +should never appear to disadvantage, never make a +ridiculous figure? Let us be generous of our dignity +as well as of our money. Greatness once and for ever +has done with opinion. We tell our charities, not +because we wish to be praised for them, not because we +think they have great merit, but for our justification. +It is a capital blunder; as you discover when another +man recites his charities. + +To speak the truth, even with some austerity, to live +with some rigor of temperance, or some extremes of +generosity, seems to be an asceticism which common +good-nature would appoint to those who are at ease and +in plenty, in sign that they feel a brotherhood with +the great multitude of suffering men. And not only need +we breathe and exercise the soul by assuming the penalties +of abstinence, of debt, of solitude, of unpopularity,--but +it behooves the wise man to look with a bold eye into +those rarer dangers which sometimes invade men, and to +familiarize himself with disgusting forms of disease, with +sounds of execration, and the vision of violent death. + +Times of heroism are generally times of terror, but the +day never shines in which this element may not work. The +circumstances of man, we say, are historically somewhat +better in this country and at this hour than perhaps ever +before. More freedom exists for culture. It will not now +run against an axe at the first step out of the beaten +track of opinion. But whoso is heroic will always find +crises to try his edge. Human virtue demands her champions +and martyrs, and the trial of persecution always proceeds. +It is but the other day that the brave Lovejoy gave his +breast to the bullets of a mob, for the rights of free +speech and opinion, and died when it was better not to +live. + +I see not any road of perfect peace which a man can walk, +but after the counsel of his own bosom. Let him quit too +much association, let him go home much, and stablish +himself in those courses he approves. The unremitting +retention of simple and high sentiments in obscure duties +is hardening the character to that temper which will work +with honor, if need be in the tumult, or on the scaffold. +Whatever outrages have happened to men may befall a man +again; and very easily in a republic, if there appear any +signs of a decay of religion. Coarse slander, fire, tar +and feathers and the gibbet, the youth may freely bring +home to his mind and with what sweetness of temper he can, +and inquire how fast he can fix his sense of duty, braving +such penalties, whenever it may please the next newspaper +and a sufficient number of his neighbors to pronounce his +opinions incendiary. + +It may calm the apprehension of calamity in the most +susceptible heart to see how quick a bound Nature has +set to the utmost infliction of malice. We rapidly +approach a brink over which no enemy can follow us:-- + + "Let them rave: + Thou art quiet in thy grave." + +In the gloom of our ignorance of what shall be, in the +hour when we are deaf to the higher voices, who does +not envy those who have seen safely to an end their +manful endeavor? Who that sees the meanness of our +politics but inly congratulates Washington that he is +long already wrapped in his shroud, and for ever safe; +that he was laid sweet in his grave, the hope of humanity +not yet subjugated in him? Who does not sometimes envy +the good and brave who are no more to suffer from the +tumults of the natural world, and await with curious +complacency the speedy term of his own conversation with +finite nature? And yet the love that will be annihilated +sooner than treacherous has already made death impossible, +and affirms itself no mortal but a native of the deeps of +absolute and inextinguishable being. + + + + +THE OVER-SOUL. + +"BUT souls that of his own good life partake, +He loves as his own self; dear as his eye +They are to Him: He'll never them forsake: +When they shall die, then God himself shall die: +They live, they live in blest eternity." + Henry More. + +Space is ample, east and west, +But two cannot go abreast, +Cannot travel in it two: +Yonder masterful cuckoo +Crowds every egg out of the nest, +Quick or dead, except its own; +A spell is laid on sod and stone, +Night and Day 've been tampered with, +Every quality and pith +Surcharged and sultry with a power +That works its will on age and hour. + +IX. +THE OVER-SOUL. + +THERE is a difference between one and another hour of +life in their authority and subsequent effect. Our faith +comes in moments; our vice is habitual. Yet there is a +depth in those brief moments which constrains us to +ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences. +For this reason the argument which is always forthcoming +to silence those who conceive extraordinary hopes of man, +namely the appeal to experience, is for ever invalid and +vain. We give up the past to the objector, and yet we hope. +He must explain this hope. We grant that human life is mean, +but how did we find out that it was mean? What is the ground +of this uneasiness of ours; of this old discontent? What is +the universal sense of want and ignorance, but the fine +innuendo by which the soul makes its enormous claim? Why +do men feel that the natural history of man has never been +written, but he is always leaving behind what you have said +of him, and it becomes old, and books of metaphysics +worthless? The philosophy of six thousand years has not +searched the chambers and magazines of the soul. In its +experiments there has always remained, in the last analysis, +a residuum it could not resolve. Man is a stream whose +source is hidden. Our being is descending into us from +we know not whence. The most exact calculator has no +prescience that somewhat incalculable may not balk the very +next moment. I am constrained every moment to acknowledge a +higher origin for events than the will I call mine. + +As with events, so is it with thoughts. When I watch +that flowing river, which, out of regions I see not, +pours for a season its streams into me, I see that I +am a pensioner; not a cause, but a surprised spectator +of this ethereal water; that I desire and look up and +put myself in the attitude of reception, but from some +alien energy the visions come. + +The Supreme Critic on the errors of the past and the +present, and the only prophet of that which must be, +is that great nature in which we rest as the earth +lies in the soft arms of the atmosphere; that Unity, +that Over-soul, within which every man's particular +being is contained and made one with all other; that +common heart of which all sincere conversation is the +worship, to which all right action is submission; that +overpowering reality which confutes our tricks and +talents, and constrains every one to pass for what he +is, and to speak from his character and not from his +tongue, and which evermore tends to pass into our +thought and hand and become wisdom and virtue and power +and beauty. We live in succession, in division, in parts, +in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the +whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which +every part and particle is equally related; the eternal +ONE. And this deep power in which we exist and whose +beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self- +sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of +seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, +the subject and the object, are one. We see the world +piece by piece, as the sun, the moon, the animal, the +tree; but the whole, of which these are the shining parts, +is the soul. Only by the vision of that Wisdom can the +horoscope of the ages be read, and by falling back on our +better thoughts, by yielding to the spirit of prophecy +which is innate in every man, we can know what it saith. +Every man's words who speaks from that life must sound +vain to those who do not dwell in the same thought on +their own part. I dare not speak for it. My words do not +carry its august sense; they fall short and cold. Only +itself can inspire whom it will, and behold! their speech +shall be lyrical, and sweet, and universal as the rising +of the wind. Yet I desire, even by profane words, if I +may not use sacred, to indicate the heaven of this deity +and to report what hints I have collected of the +transcendent simplicity and energy of the Highest Law. + +If we consider what happens in conversation, in reveries, +in remorse, in times of passion, in surprises, in the +instructions of dreams, wherein often we see ourselves +in masquerade,--the droll disguises only magnifying and +enhancing a real element and forcing it on our distinct +notice,--we shall catch many hints that will broaden and +lighten into knowledge of the secret of nature. All goes +to show that the soul in man is not an organ, but animates +and exercises all the organs; is not a function, like the +power of memory, of calculation, of comparison, but uses +these as hands and feet; is not a faculty, but a light; +is not the intellect or the will, but the master of the +intellect and the will; is the background of our being, +in which they lie,--an immensity not possessed and that +cannot be possessed. From within or from behind, a light +shines through us upon things and makes us aware that we +are nothing, but the light is all. A man is the facade of +a temple wherein all wisdom and all good abide. What we +commonly call man, the eating, drinking, planting, counting +man, does not, as we know him, represent himself, but +misrepresents himself. Him we do not respect, but the soul, +whose organ he is, would he let it appear through his +action, would make our knees bend. When it breathes through +his intellect, it is genius; when it breathes through his +will, it is virtue; when it flows through his affection, it +is love. And the blindness of the intellect begins when it +would be something of itself. The weakness of the will begins +when the individual would be something of himself. All reform +aims in some one particular to let the soul have its way +through us; in other words, to engage us to obey. + +Of this pure nature every man is at some time sensible. +Language cannot paint it with his colors. It is too +subtile. It is undefinable, unmeasurable; but we know +that it pervades and contains us. We know that all +spiritual being is in man. A wise old proverb says, "God +comes to see us without bell;" that is, as there is no +screen or ceiling between our heads and the infinite +heavens, so is there no bar or wall in the soul where +man, the effect, ceases, and God, the cause, begins. The +walls are taken away. We lie open on one side to the deeps +of spiritual nature, to the attributes of God. Justice we +see and know, Love, Freedom, Power. These natures no man +ever got above, but they tower over us, and most in the +moment when our interests tempt us to wound them. + +The sovereignty of this nature whereof we speak is made +known by its independency of those limitations which +circumscribe us on every hand. The soul circumscribes +all things. As I have said, it contradicts all experience. +In like manner it abolishes time and space. The influence +of the senses has in most men overpowered the mind to that +degree that the walls of time and space have come to look +real and insurmountable; and to speak with levity of these +limits is, in the world, the sign of insanity. Yet time and +space are but inverse measures of the force of the soul. +The spirit sports with time,-- + + "Can crowd eternity into an hour, + Or stretch an hour to eternity." + +We are often made to feel that there is another youth +and age than that which is measured from the year of +our natural birth. Some thoughts always find us young, +and keep us so. Such a thought is the love of the +universal and eternal beauty. Every man parts from that +contemplation with the feeling that it rather belongs +to ages than to mortal life. The least activity of the +intellectual powers redeems us in a degree from the +conditions of time. In sickness, in languor, give us a +strain of poetry or a profound sentence, and we are +refreshed; or produce a volume of Plato or Shakspeare, +or remind us of their names, and instantly we come into +a feeling of longevity. See how the deep divine thought +reduces centuries and millenniums and makes itself +present through all ages. Is the teaching of Christ +less effective now than it was when first his mouth +was opened? The emphasis of facts and persons in my +thought has nothing to do with time. And so always the +soul's scale is one, the scale of the senses and the +understanding is another. Before the revelations of the +soul, Time, Space and Nature shrink away. In common +speech we refer all things to time, as we habitually +refer the immensely sundered stars to one concave sphere. +And so we say that the Judgment is distant or near, that +the Millennium approaches, that a day of certain political, +moral, social reforms is at hand, and the like, when we +mean that in the nature of things one of the facts we +contemplate is external and fugitive, and the other is +permanent and connate with the soul. The things we now +esteem fixed shall, one by one, detach themselves like +ripe fruit from our experience, and fall. The wind shall +blow them none knows whither. The landscape, the figures, +Boston, London, are facts as fugitive as any institution +past, or any whiff of mist or smoke, and so is society, +and so is the world. The soul looketh steadily forwards, +creating a world before her, leaving worlds behind her. +She has no dates, nor rites, nor persons, nor specialties +nor men. The soul knows only the soul; the web of events +is the flowing robe in which she is clothed. + +After its own law and not by arithmetic is the rate of +its progress to be computed. The soul's advances are not +made by gradation, such as can be represented by motion +in a straight line, but rather by ascension of state, +such as can be represented by metamorphosis,--from the +egg to the worm, from the worm to the fly. The growths +of genius are of a certain total character, that does +not advance the elect individual first over John, then +Adam, then Richard, and give to each the pain of +discovered inferiority,--but by every throe of growth +the man expands there where he works, passing, at each +pulsation, classes, populations, of men. With each divine +impulse the mind rends the thin rinds of the visible and +finite, and comes out into eternity, and inspires and +expires its air. It converses with truths that have always +been spoken in the world, and becomes conscious of a closer +sympathy with Zeno and Arrian than with persons in the house. + +This is the law of moral and of mental gain. The simple +rise as by specific levity not into a particular virtue, +but into the region of all the virtues. They are in the +spirit which contains them all. The soul requires purity, +but purity is not it; requires justice, but justice is +not that; requires beneficence, but is somewhat better; +so that there is a kind of descent and accommodation felt +when we leave speaking of moral nature to urge a virtue +which it enjoins. To the well-born child all the virtues +are natural, and not painfully acquired. Speak to his +heart, and the man becomes suddenly virtuous. + +Within the same sentiment is the germ of intellectual +growth, which obeys the same law. Those who are capable +of humility, of justice, of love, of aspiration, stand +already on a platform that commands the sciences and +arts, speech and poetry, action and grace. For whoso +dwells in this moral beatitude already anticipates those +special powers which men prize so highly. The lover has +no talent, no skill, which passes for quite nothing with +his enamoured maiden, however little she may possess of +related faculty; and the heart which abandons itself to +the Supreme Mind finds itself related to all its works, +and will travel a royal road to particular knowledges and +powers. In ascending to this primary and aboriginal +sentiment we have come from our remote station on the +circumference instantaneously to the centre of the world, +where, as in the closet of God, we see causes, and +anticipate the universe, which is but a slow effect. + +One mode of the divine teaching is the incarnation of +the spirit in a form,--in forms, like my own. I live +in society, with persons who answer to thoughts in my +own mind, or express a certain obedience to the great +instincts to which I live. I see its presence to them. +I am certified of a common nature; and these other souls, +these separated selves, draw me as nothing else can. +They stir in me the new emotions we call passion; of love, +hatred, fear, admiration, pity; thence come conversation, +competition, persuasion, cities and war. Persons are +supplementary to the primary teaching of the soul. In +youth we are mad for persons. Childhood and youth see +all the world in them. But the larger experience of man +discovers the identical nature appearing through them all. +Persons themselves acquaint us with the impersonal. In all +conversation between two persons tacit reference is made, +as to a third party, to a common nature. That third party +or common nature is not social; it is impersonal; is God. +And so in groups where debate is earnest, and especially +on high questions, the company become aware that the +thought rises to an equal level in all bosoms, that all +have a spiritual property in what was said, as well as +the sayer. They all become wiser than they were. It arches +over them like a temple, this unity of thought in which +every heart beats with nobler sense of power and duty, and +thinks and acts with unusual solemnity. All are conscious +of attaining to a higher self-possession. It shines for +all. There is a certain wisdom of humanity which is common +to the greatest men with the lowest, and which our ordinary +education often labors to silence and obstruct. The mind is +one, and the best minds, who love truth for its own sake, +think much less of property in truth. They accept it +thankfully everywhere, and do not label or stamp it with +any man's name, for it is theirs long beforehand, and from +eternity. The learned and the studious of thought have no +monopoly of wisdom. Their violence of direction in some +degree disqualifies them to think truly. We owe many +valuable observations to people who are not very acute or +profound, and who say the thing without effort which we want +and have long been hunting in vain. The action of the soul +is oftener in that which is felt and left unsaid than in +that which is said in any conversation. It broods over every +society, and they unconsciously seek for it in each other. +We know better than we do. We do not yet possess ourselves, +and we know at the same time that we are much more. I feel +the same truth how often in my trivial conversation with my +neighbors, that somewhat higher in each of us overlooks this +by-play, and Jove nods to Jove from behind each of us. + +Men descend to meet. In their habitual and mean service +to the world, for which they forsake their native +nobleness, they resemble those Arabian sheiks who dwell +in mean houses and affect an external poverty, to escape +the rapacity of the Pacha, and reserve all their display +of wealth for their interior and guarded retirements. + +As it is present in all persons, so it is in every +period of life. It is adult already in the infant man. +In my dealing with my child, my Latin and Greek, my +accomplishments and my money stead me nothing; but as +much soul as I have avails. If I am wilful, he sets his +will against mine, one for one, and leaves me, if I +please, the degradation of beating him by my superiority +of strength. But if I renounce my will and act for the +soul, setting that up as umpire between us two, out of +his young eyes looks the same soul; he reveres and loves +with me. + +The soul is the perceiver and revealer of truth. We know +truth when we see it, let skeptic and scoffer say what +they choose. Foolish people ask you, when you have spoken +what they do not wish to hear, 'How do you know it is +truth, and not an error of your own?' We know truth when +we see it, from opinion, as we know when we are awake that +we are awake. It was a grand sentence of Emanuel Swedenborg, +which would alone indicate the greatness of that man's +perception,--"It is no proof of a man's understanding to +be able to confirm whatever he pleases; but to be able to +discern that what is true is true, and that what is false +is false,--this is the mark and character of intelligence." +In the book I read, the good thought returns to me, as +every truth will, the image of the whole soul. To the bad +thought which I find in it, the same soul becomes a +discerning, separating sword, and lops it away. We are wiser +than we know. If we will not interfere with our thought, but +will act entirely, or see how the thing stands in God, we +know the particular thing, and every thing, and every man. +For the Maker of all things and all persons stands behind +us and casts his dread omniscience through us over things. + +But beyond this recognition of its own in particular +passages of the individual's experience, it also reveals +truth. And here we should seek to reinforce ourselves by +its very presence, and to speak with a worthier, loftier +strain of that advent. For the soul's communication of +truth is the highest event in nature, since it then does +not give somewhat from itself, but it gives itself, or +passes into and becomes that man whom it enlightens; or, +in proportion to that truth he receives, it takes him to +itself. + +We distinguish the announcements of the soul, its +manifestations of its own nature, by the term Revelation. +These are always attended by the emotion of the sublime. +For this communication is an influx of the Divine mind +into our mind. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet +before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Every distinct +apprehension of this central commandment agitates men with +awe and delight. A thrill passes through all men at the +reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great +action, which comes out of the heart of nature. In these +communications the power to see is not separated from the +will to do, but the insight proceeds from obedience, and +the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. Every +moment when the individual feels himself invaded by it is +memorable. By the necessity of our constitution a certain +enthusiasm attends the individual's consciousness of that +divine presence. The character and duration of this +enthusiasm varies with the state of the individual, from an +ecstasy and trance and prophetic inspiration,--which is its +rarer appearance,--to the faintest glow of virtuous emotion, +in which form it warms, like our household fires, all the +families and associations of men, and makes society possible. +A certain tendency to insanity has always attended the opening +of the religious sense in men, as if they had been "blasted +with excess of light." The trances of Socrates, the "union" +of Plotinus, the vision of Porphyry, the conversion of Paul, +the aurora of Behmen, the convulsions of George Fox and his +Quakers, the illumination of Swedenborg, are of this kind. +What was in the case of these remarkable persons a ravishment, +has, in innumerable instances in common life, been exhibited +in less striking manner. Everywhere the history of religion +betrays a tendency to enthusiasm. The rapture of the Moravian +and Quietist; the opening of the internal sense of the Word, +in the language of the New Jerusalem Church; the revival of +the Calvinistic churches; the experiences of the Methodists, +are varying forms of that shudder of awe and delight with +which the individual soul always mingles with the universal +soul. + +The nature of these revelations is the same; they are +perceptions of the absolute law. They are solutions +of the soul's own questions. They do not answer the +questions which the understanding asks. The soul +answers never by words, but by the thing itself that +is inquired after. + +Revelation is the disclosure of the soul. The popular +notion of a revelation is that it is a telling of +fortunes. In past oracles of the soul the understanding +seeks to find answers to sensual questions, and undertakes +to tell from God how long men shall exist, what their +hands shall do and who shall be their company, adding +names and dates and places. But we must pick no locks. +We must check this low curiosity. An answer in words is +delusive; it is really no answer to the questions you ask. +Do not require a description of the countries towards +which you sail. The description does not describe them to +you, and to-morrow you arrive there and know them by +inhabiting them. Men ask concerning the immortality of +the soul, the employments of heaven, the state of the +sinner, and so forth. They even dream that Jesus has left +replies to precisely these interrogatories. Never a moment +did that sublime spirit speak in their patois. To truth, +justice, love, the attributes of the soul, the idea of +immutableness is essentially associated. Jesus, living in +these moral sentiments, heedless of sensual fortunes, heeding +only the manifestations of these, never made the separation +of the idea of duration from the essence of these attributes, +nor uttered a syllable concerning the duration of the soul. +It was left to his disciples to sever duration from the +moral elements, and to teach the immortality of the soul +as a doctrine, and maintain it by evidences. The moment the +doctrine of the immortality is separately taught, man is +already fallen. In the flowing of love, in the adoration of +humility, there is no question of continuance. No inspired +man ever asks this question or condescends to these evidences. +For the soul is true to itself, and the man in whom it is +shed abroad cannot wander from the present, which is infinite, +to a future which would be finite. + +These questions which we lust to ask about the future +are a confession of sin. God has no answer for them. No +answer in words can reply to a question of things. It is +not in an arbitrary "decree of God," but in the nature +of man, that a veil shuts down on the facts of to-morrow; +for the soul will not have us read any other cipher than +that of cause and effect. By this veil which curtains +events it instructs the children of men to live in to-day. +The only mode of obtaining an answer to these questions +of the senses is to forego all low curiosity, and, +accepting the tide of being which floats us into the +secret of nature, work and live, work and live, and all +unawares the advancing soul has built and forged for +itself a new condition, and the question and the answer +are one. + +By the same fire, vital, consecrating, celestial, which +burns until it shall dissolve all things into the waves +and surges of an ocean of light, we see and know each +other, and what spirit each is of. Who can tell the +grounds of his knowledge of the character of the several +individuals in his circle of friends? No man. Yet their +acts and words do not disappoint him. In that man, though +he knew no ill of him, he put no trust. In that other, +though they had seldom met, authentic signs had yet passed, +to signify that he might be trusted as one who had an +interest in his own character. We know each other very well, +--which of us has been just to himself and whether that +which we teach or behold is only an aspiration or is our +honest effort also. + +We are all discerners of spirits. That diagnosis lies +aloft in our life or unconscious power. The intercourse +of society, its trade, its religion, its friendships, +its quarrels, is one wide, judicial investigation of +character. In full court, or in small committee, or +confronted face to face, accuser and accused, men offer +themselves to be judged. Against their will they exhibit +those decisive trifles by which character is read. But +who judges? and what? Not our understanding. We do not +read them by learning or craft. No; the wisdom of the +wise man consists herein, that he does not judge them; +he lets them judge themselves and merely reads and +records their own verdict. + +By virtue of this inevitable nature, private will +is overpowered, and, maugre our efforts or our +imperfections, your genius will speak from you, +and mine from me. That which we are, we shall teach, +not voluntarily but involuntarily. Thoughts come into +our minds by avenues which we never left open, and +thoughts go out of our minds through avenues which we +never voluntarily opened. Character teaches over our +head. The infallible index of true progress is found +in the tone the man takes. Neither his age, nor his +breeding, nor company, nor books, nor actions, nor +talents, nor all together can hinder him from being +deferential to a higher spirit than his own. If he +have not found his home in God, his manners, his +forms of speech, the turn of his sentences, the build, +shall I say, of all his opinions will involuntarily +confess it, let him brave it out how he will. If he +have found his centre, the Deity will shine through +him, through all the disguises of ignorance, of +ungenial temperament, of unfavorable circumstance. +The tone of seeking is one, and the tone of having +is another. + +The great distinction between teachers sacred or +literary,--between poets like Herbert, and poets +like Pope,--between philosophers like Spinoza, Kant +and Coleridge, and philosophers like Locke, Paley, +Mackintosh and Stewart,--between men of the world +who are reckoned accomplished talkers, and here and +there a fervent mystic, prophesying half insane under +the infinitude of his thought,--is that one class +speak from within, or from experience, as parties +and possessors of the fact; and the other class from +without, as spectators merely, or perhaps as acquainted +with the fact on the evidence of third persons. It is +of no use to preach to me from without. I can do that +too easily myself. Jesus speaks always from within, +and in a degree that transcends all others. In that is +the miracle. I believe beforehand that it ought so to +be. All men stand continually in the expectation of the +appearance of such a teacher. But if a man do not speak +from within the veil, where the word is one with that it +tells of, let him lowly confess it. + +The same Omniscience flows into the intellect, and makes +what we call genius. Much of the wisdom of the world is +not wisdom, and the most illuminated class of men are no +doubt superior to literary fame, and are not writers. +Among the multitude of scholars and authors, we feel no +hallowing presence; we are sensible of a knack and skill +rather than of inspiration; they have a light and know +not whence it comes and call it their own; their talent +is some exaggerated faculty, some overgrown member, so +that their strength is a disease. In these instances the +intellectual gifts do not make the impression of virtue, +but almost of vice; and we feel that a man's talents stand +in the way of his advancement in truth. But genius is +religious. It is a larger imbibing of the common heart. +It is not anomalous, but more like and not less like other +men. There is in all great poets a wisdom of humanity +which is superior to any talents they exercise. The author, +the wit, the partisan, the fine gentleman, does not take +place of the man. Humanity shines in Homer, in Chaucer, in +Spenser, in Shakspeare, in Milton. They are content with +truth. They use the positive degree. They seem frigid and +phlegmatic to those who have been spiced with the frantic +passion and violent coloring of inferior but popular +writers. For they are poets by the free course which they +allow to the informing soul, which through their eyes +beholds again and blesses the things which it hath made. +The soul is superior to its knowledge, wiser than any of +its works. The great poet makes us feel our own wealth, +and then we think less of his compositions. His best +communication to our mind is to teach us to despise all +he has done. Shakspeare carries us to such a lofty strain +of intelligent activity as to suggest a wealth which +beggars his own; and we then feel that the splendid works +which he has created, and which in other hours we extol +as a sort of self-existent poetry, take no stronger hold +of real nature than the shadow of a passing traveller on +the rock. The inspiration which uttered itself in Hamlet +and Lear could utter things as good from day to day for +ever. Why then should I make account of Hamlet and Lear, +as if we had not the soul from which they fell as syllables +from the tongue? + +This energy does not descend into individual life on +any other condition than entire possession. It comes +to the lowly and simple; it comes to whomsoever will +put off what is foreign and proud; it comes as insight; +it comes as serenity and grandeur. When we see those +whom it inhabits, we are apprised of new degrees of +greatness. From that inspiration the man comes back +with a changed tone. He does not talk with men with +an eye to their opinion. He tries them. It requires +of us to be plain and true. The vain traveller attempts +to embellish his life by quoting my lord and the prince +and the countess, who thus said or did to him. The +ambitious vulgar show you their spoons and brooches and +rings, and preserve their cards and compliments. The +more cultivated, in their account of their own experience, +cull out the pleasing, poetic circumstance,--the visit to +Rome, the man of genius they saw, the brilliant friend +They know; still further on perhaps the gorgeous landscape, +the mountain lights, the mountain thoughts they enjoyed +yesterday,--and so seek to throw a romantic color over +their life. But the soul that ascends to worship the +great God is plain and true; has no rose-color, no fine +friends, no chivalry, no adventures; does not want +admiration; dwells in the hour that now is, in the +earnest experience of the common day,--by reason of the +present moment and the mere trifle having become porous +to thought and bibulous of the sea of light. + +Converse with a mind that is grandly simple, and +literature looks like word-catching. The simplest +utterances are worthiest to be written, yet are +they so cheap and so things of course, that in the +infinite riches of the soul it is like gathering a +few pebbles off the ground, or bottling a little +air in a phial, when the whole earth and the whole +atmosphere are ours. Nothing can pass there, or make +you one of the circle, but the casting aside your +trappings, and dealing man to man in naked truth, +plain confession, and omniscient affirmation. + +Souls such as these treat you as gods would, walk as +gods in the earth, accepting without any admiration +your wit, your bounty, your virtue even,--say rather +your act of duty, for your virtue they own as their +proper blood, royal as themselves, and over-royal, +and the father of the gods. But what rebuke their +plain fraternal bearing casts on the mutual flattery +with which authors solace each other and wound +themselves! These flatter not. I do not wonder that +these men go to see Cromwell and Christina and Charles +the Second and James the First and the Grand Turk. For +they are, in their own elevation, the fellows of kings, +and must feel the servile tone of conversation in the +world. They must always be a godsend to princes, for +they confront them, a king to a king, without ducking +or concession, and give a high nature the refreshment +and satisfaction of resistance, of plain humanity, of +even companionship and of new ideas. They leave them +wiser and superior men. Souls like these make us feel +that sincerity is more excellent than flattery. Deal so +plainly with man and woman as to constrain the utmost +sincerity and destroy all hope of trifling with you. It +is the highest compliment you can pay. Their "highest +praising," said Milton, "is not flattery, and their +plainest advice is a kind of praising." + +Ineffable is the union of man and God in every act +of the soul. The simplest person who in his integrity +worships God, becomes God; yet for ever and ever the +influx of this better and universal self is new and +unsearchable. It inspires awe and astonishment. How +dear, how soothing to man, arises the idea of God, +peopling the lonely place, effacing the scars of our +mistakes and disappointments! When we have broken our +god of tradition and ceased from our god of rhetoric, +then may God fire the heart with his presence. It is +the doubling of the heart itself, nay, the infinite +enlargement of the heart with a power of growth to a +new infinity on every side. It inspires in man an +infallible trust. He has not the conviction, but the +sight, that the best is the true, and may in that +thought easily dismiss all particular uncertainties +and fears, and adjourn to the sure revelation of time +the solution of his private riddles. He is sure that +his welfare is dear to the heart of being. In the +presence of law to his mind he is overflowed with a +reliance so universal that it sweeps away all cherished +hopes and the most stable projects of mortal condition +in its flood. He believes that he cannot escape from +his good. The things that are really for thee gravitate +to thee. You are running to seek your friend. Let your +feet run, but your mind need not. If you do not find +him, will you not acquiesce that it is best you should +not find him? for there is a power, which, as it is in +you, is in him also, and could therefore very well bring +you together, if it were for the best. You are preparing +with eagerness to go and render a service to which your +talent and your taste invite you, the love of men and +the hope of fame. Has it not occurred to you that you +have no right to go, unless you are equally willing to +be prevented from going? O, believe, as thou livest, that +every sound that is spoken over the round world, which +thou oughtest to hear, will vibrate on thine ear! Every +proverb, every book, every byword that belongs to thee +for aid or comfort, shall surely come home through open +or winding passages. Every friend whom not thy fantastic +will but the great and tender heart in thee craveth, +shall lock thee in his embrace. And this because the +heart in thee is the heart of all; not a valve, not a +wall, not an intersection is there anywhere in nature, +but one blood rolls uninterruptedly an endless circulation +through all men, as the water of the globe is all one sea, +and, truly seen, its tide is one. + +Let man then learn the revelation of all nature and +all thought to his heart; this, namely; that the +Highest dwells with him; that the sources of nature +are in his own mind, if the sentiment of duty is +there. But if he would know what the great God +speaketh, he must 'go into his closet and shut the +door,' as Jesus said. God will not make himself +manifest to cowards. He must greatly listen to himself, +withdrawing himself from all the accents of other men's +devotion. Even their prayers are hurtful to him, until +he have made his own. Our religion vulgarly stands on +numbers of believers. Whenever the appeal is made,--no +matter how indirectly,--to numbers, proclamation is then +and there made that religion is not. He that finds God a +sweet enveloping thought to him never counts his company. +When I sit in that presence, who shall dare to come in? +When I rest in perfect humility, when I burn with pure +love, what can Calvin or Swedenborg say? + +It makes no difference whether the appeal is to +numbers or to one. The faith that stands on authority +is not faith. The reliance on authority measures the +decline of religion, the withdrawal of the soul. The +position men have given to Jesus, now for many centuries +of history, is a position of authority. It characterizes +themselves. It cannot alter the eternal facts. Great is +the soul, and plain. It is no flatterer, it is no +follower; it never appeals from itself. It believes in +itself. Before the immense possibilities of man all mere +experience, all past biography, however spotless and +sainted, shrinks away. Before that heaven which our +presentiments foreshow us, we cannot easily praise any +form of life we have seen or read of. We not only affirm +that we have few great men, but, absolutely speaking, +that we have none; that we have no history, no record of +any character or mode of living that entirely contents +us. The saints and demigods whom history worships we are +constrained to accept with a grain of allowance. Though +in our lonely hours we draw a new strength out of their +memory, yet, pressed on our attention, as they are by +the thoughtless and customary, they fatigue and invade. +The soul gives itself, alone, original and pure, to the +Lonely, Original and Pure, who, on that condition, gladly +inhabits, leads and speaks through it. Then is it glad, +young and nimble. It is not wise, but it sees through all +things. It is not called religious, but it is innocent. +It calls the light its own, and feels that the grass grows +and the stone falls by a law inferior to, and dependent +on, its nature. Behold, it saith, I am born into the great, +the universal mind. I, the imperfect, adore my own Perfect. +I am somehow receptive of the great soul, and thereby I do +Overlook the sun and the stars and feel them to be the fair +accidents and effects which change and pass. More and more +the surges of everlasting nature enter into me, and I +become public and human in my regards and actions. So come +I to live in thoughts and act with energies which are +immortal. Thus revering the soul, and learning, as the +ancient said, that "its beauty is immense," man will come +to see that the world is the perennial miracle which the +soul worketh, and be less astonished at particular wonders; +he will learn that there is no profane history; that all +history is sacred; that the universe is represented in an +atom, in a moment of time. He will weave no longer a spotted +life of shreds and patches, but he will live with a divine +unity. He will cease from what is base and frivolous in his +life and be content with all places and with any service he +can render. He will calmly front the morrow in the negligency +of that trust which carries God with it and so hath already +the whole future in the bottom of the heart. + + + + +CIRCLES. + +NATURE centres into balls, +And her proud ephemerals, +Fast to surface and outside, +Scan the profile of the sphere; +Knew they what that signified, +A new genesis were here. + +X. +CIRCLES. + +The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it +forms is the second; and throughout nature this +primary figure is repeated without end. It is the +highest emblem in the cipher of the world. St. +Augustine described the nature of God as a circle +whose centre was everywhere and its circumference +nowhere. We are all our lifetime reading the copious +sense of this first of forms. One moral we have already +deduced, in considering the circular or compensatory +character of every human action. Another analogy we +shall now trace, that every action admits of being +outdone. Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth +that around every circle another can be drawn; that +there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; +that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, +and under every deep a lower deep opens. + +This fact, as far as it symbolizes the moral fact of +the Unattainable, the flying Perfect, around which the +hands of man can never meet, at once the inspirer and +the condemner of every success, may conveniently serve +us to connect many illustrations of human power in +every department. + +There are no fixtures in nature. The universe is +fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of +degrees. Our globe seen by God is a transparent +law, not a mass of facts. The law dissolves the +fact and holds it fluid. Our culture is the +predominance of an idea which draws after it this +train of cities and institutions. Let us rise into +another idea: they will disappear. The Greek +sculpture is all melted away, as if it had been +statues of ice; here and there a solitary figure or +fragment remaining, as we see flecks and scraps of +snow left in cold dells and mountain clefts in June +and July. For the genius that created it creates now +somewhat else. The Greek letters last a little longer, +but are already passing under the same sentence and +tumbling into the inevitable pit which the creation +of new thought opens for all that is old. The new +continents are built out of the ruins of an old planet; +the new races fed out of the decomposition of the +foregoing. New arts destroy the old. See the investment +of capital in aqueducts made useless by hydraulics; +fortifications, by gunpowder; roads and canals, by +railways; sails, by steam; steam by electricity. + +You admire this tower of granite, weathering the +hurts of so many ages. Yet a little waving hand +built this huge wall, and that which builds is +better than that which is built. The hand that +built can topple it down much faster. Better than +the hand and nimbler was the invisible thought +which wrought through it; and thus ever, behind +the coarse effect, is a fine cause, which, being +narrowly seen, is itself the effect of a finer +cause. Every thing looks permanent until its secret +is known. A rich estate appears to women a firm and +lasting fact; to a merchant, one easily created out +of any materials, and easily lost. An orchard, good +tillage, good grounds, seem a fixture, like a gold +mine, or a river, to a citizen; but to a large farmer, +not much more fixed than the state of the crop. Nature +looks provokingly stable and secular, but it has a +cause like all the rest; and when once I comprehend +that, will these fields stretch so immovably wide, +these leaves hang so individually considerable? +Permanence is a word of degrees. Every thing is medial. +Moons are no more bounds to spiritual power than bat-balls. + +The key to every man is his thought. Sturdy and defying +though he look, he has a helm which he obeys, which is +the idea after which all his facts are classified. He +can only be reformed by showing him a new idea which +commands his own. The life of man is a self-evolving +circle, which, from a ring imperceptibly small, rushes +on all sides outwards to new and larger circles, and +that without end. The extent to which this generation +of circles, wheel without wheel, will go, depends on +the force or truth of the individual soul. For it is +the inert effort of each thought, having formed itself +into a circular wave of circumstance,--as for instance +an empire, rules of an art, a local usage, a religious +rite,--to heap itself on that ridge and to solidify and +hem in the life. But if the soul is quick and strong it +bursts over that boundary on all sides and expands +another orbit on the great deep, which also runs up into +a high wave, with attempt again to stop and to bind. But +the heart refuses to be imprisoned; in its first and +narrowest pulses, it already tends outward with a vast +force and to immense and innumerable expansions. + +Every ultimate fact is only the first of a new series. +Every general law only a particular fact of some more +general law presently to disclose itself. There is no +outside, no inclosing wall, no circumference to us. The +man finishes his story,--how good! how final! how it +puts a new face on all things! He fills the sky. Lo! +on the other side rises also a man and draws a circle +around the circle we had just pronounced the outline of +the sphere. Then already is our first speaker not man, +but only a first speaker. His only redress is forthwith +to draw a circle outside of his antagonist. And so men +do by themselves. The result of to-day, which haunts the +mind and cannot be escaped, will presently be abridged +into a word, and the principle that seemed to explain +nature will itself be included as one example of a bolder +generalization. In the thought of to-morrow there is a +power to upheave all thy creed, all the creeds, all the +literatures of the nations, and marshal thee to a heaven +which no epic dream has yet depicted. Every man is not +so much a workman in the world as he is a suggestion of +that he should be. Men walk as prophecies of the next age. + +Step by step we scale this mysterious ladder: the +steps are actions; the new prospect is power. Every +several result is threatened and judged by that which +follows. Every one seems to be contradicted by the +new; it is only limited by the new. The new statement +is always hated by the old, and, to those dwelling in +the old, comes like an abyss of scepticism. But the +eye soon gets wonted to it, for the eye and it are +effects of one cause; then its innocency and benefit +appear, and presently, all its energy spent, it pales +and dwindles before the revelation of the new hour. + +Fear not the new generalization. Does the fact look +crass and material, threatening to degrade thy theory +of spirit? Resist it not; it goes to refine and raise +thy theory of matter just as much. + +There are no fixtures to men, if we appeal to consciousness. +Every man supposes himself not to be fully understood; and +if there is any truth in him, if he rests at last on the +divine soul, I see not how it can be otherwise. The last +chamber, the last closet, he must feel was never opened; +there is always a residuum unknown, unanalyzable. That is, +every man believes that he has a greater possibility. + +Our moods do not believe in each other. To-day I am +full of thoughts and can write what I please. I see +no reason why I should not have the same thought, +the same power of expression, to-morrow. What I write, +whilst I write it, seems the most natural thing in the +world; but yesterday I saw a dreary vacuity in this +direction in which now I see so much; and a month hence, +I doubt not, I shall wonder who he was that wrote so +many continuous pages. Alas for this infirm faith, this +will not strenuous, this vast ebb of a vast flow! I am +God in nature; I am a weed by the wall. + +The continual effort to raise himself above himself, +to work a pitch above his last height, betrays itself +in a man's relations. We thirst for approbation, yet +cannot forgive the approver. The sweet of nature is +love; yet, if I have a friend I am tormented by my +imperfections. The love of me accuses the other party. +If he were high enough to slight me, then could I love +him, and rise by my affection to new heights. A man's +growth is seen in the successive choirs of his friends. +For every friend whom he loses for truth, he gains a +better. I thought as I walked in the woods and mused +on my friends, why should I play with them this game of +idolatry? I know and see too well, when not voluntarily +blind, the speedy limits of persons called high and +worthy. Rich, noble and great they are by the liberality +of our speech, but truth is sad. O blessed Spirit, whom +I forsake for these, they are not thou! Every personal +consideration that we allow costs us heavenly state. We +sell the thrones of angels for a short and turbulent +pleasure. + +How often must we learn this lesson? Men cease to +interest us when we find their limitations. The only +sin is limitation. As soon as you once come up with a +man's limitations, it is all over with him. Has he +talents? has he enterprise? has he knowledge? It boots +not. Infinitely alluring and attractive was he to you +yesterday, a great hope, a sea to swim in; now, you +have found his shores, found it a pond, and you care +not if you never see it again. + +Each new step we take in thought reconciles twenty +seemingly discordant facts, as expressions of one +law. Aristotle and Plato are reckoned the respective +heads of two schools. A wise man will see that +Aristotle platonizes. By going one step farther back +in thought, discordant opinions are reconciled by +being seen to be two extremes of one principle, and +we can never go so far back as to preclude a still +higher vision. + +Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this +planet. Then all things are at risk. It is as when a +conflagration has broken out in a great city, and no +man knows what is safe, or where it will end. There +is not a piece of science but its flank may be turned +to-morrow; there is not any literary reputation, not +the so-called eternal names of fame, that may not be +revised and condemned. The very hopes of man, the +thoughts of his heart, the religion of nations, the +manners and morals of mankind are all at the mercy of +a new generalization. Generalization is always a new +influx of the divinity into the mind. Hence the thrill +that attends it. + +Valor consists in the power of self-recovery, so +that a man cannot have his flank turned, cannot be +out-generalled, but put him where you will, he stands. +This can only be by his preferring truth to his past +apprehension of truth, and his alert acceptance of it +from whatever quarter; the intrepid conviction that +his laws, his relations to society, his Christianity, +his world, may at any time be superseded and decease. + +There are degrees in idealism. We learn first to play +with it academically, as the magnet was once a toy. +Then we see in the heyday of youth and poetry that it +may be true, that it is true in gleams and fragments. +Then its countenance waxes stern and grand, and we see +that it must be true. It now shows itself ethical and +practical. We learn that God is; that he is in me; and +that all things are shadows of him. The idealism of +Berkeley is only a crude statement of the idealism of +Jesus, and that again is a crude statement of the fact +that all nature is the rapid efflux of goodness executing +and organizing itself. Much more obviously is history and +the state of the world at any one time directly dependent +on the intellectual classification then existing in the +minds of men. The things which are dear to men at this +hour are so on account of the ideas which have emerged +on their mental horizon, and which cause the present order +of things, as a tree bears its apples. A new degree of +culture would instantly revolutionize the entire system +of human pursuits. + +Conversation is a game of circles. In conversation +we pluck up the termini which bound the common of +silence on every side. The parties are not to be +judged by the spirit they partake and even express +under this Pentecost. To-morrow they will have receded +from this high-water mark. To-morrow you shall find +them stooping under the old pack-saddles. Yet let us +enjoy the cloven flame whilst it glows on our walls. +When each new speaker strikes a new light, emancipates +us from the oppression of the last speaker, to oppress +us with the greatness and exclusiveness of his own +thought, then yields us to another redeemer, we seem +to recover our rights, to become men. O, what truths +profound and executable only in ages and orbs, are +supposed in the announcement of every truth! In common +hours, society sits cold and statuesque. We all stand +waiting, empty,--knowing, possibly, that we can be full, +surrounded by mighty symbols which are not symbols to +us, but prose and trivial toys. Then cometh the god and +converts the statues into fiery men, and by a flash of +his eye burns up the veil which shrouded all things, +and the meaning of the very furniture, of cup and saucer, +of chair and clock and tester, is manifest. The facts +which loomed so large in the fogs of yesterday,--property, +climate, breeding, personal beauty and the like, have +strangely changed their proportions. All that we reckoned +settled shakes and rattles; and literatures, cities, +climates, religions, leave their foundations and dance +before our eyes. And yet here again see the swift +circumspection! Good as is discourse, silence is better, +and shames it. The length of the discourse indicates the +distance of thought betwixt the speaker and the hearer. +If they were at a perfect understanding in any part, no +words would be necessary thereon. If at one in all parts, +no words would be suffered. + +Literature is a point outside of our hodiernal circle +through which a new one may be described. The use of +literature is to afford us a platform whence we may +command a view of our present life, a purchase by +which we may move it. We fill ourselves with ancient +learning, install ourselves the best we can in Greek, +in Punic, in Roman houses, only that we may wiselier +see French, English and American houses and modes of +living. In like manner we see literature best from the +midst of wild nature, or from the din of affairs, or +from a high religion. The field cannot be well seen +from within the field. The astronomer must have his +diameter of the earth's orbit as a base to find the +parallax of any star. + +Therefore we value the poet. All the argument and all +the wisdom is not in the encyclopaedia, or the treatise +on metaphysics, or the Body of Divinity, but in the +sonnet or the play. In my daily work I incline to repeat +my old steps, and do not believe in remedial force, in +the power of change and reform. But some Petrarch or +Ariosto, filled with the new wine of his imagination, +writes me an ode or a brisk romance, full of daring +thought and action. He smites and arouses me with his +shrill tones, breaks up my whole chain of habits, and +I open my eye on my own possibilities. He claps wings +to the sides of all the solid old lumber of the world, +and I am capable once more of choosing a straight path +in theory and practice. + +We have the same need to command a view of the religion +of the world. We can never see Christianity from the +catechism:--from the pastures, from a boat in the pond, +from amidst the songs of wood-birds we possibly may. +Cleansed by the elemental light and wind, steeped in the +sea of beautiful forms which the field offers us, we may +chance to cast a right glance back upon biography. +Christianity is rightly dear to the best of mankind; yet +was there never a young philosopher whose breeding had +fallen into the Christian church by whom that brave text +of Paul's was not specially prized:--"Then shall also the +Son be subject unto Him who put all things under him, that +God may be all in all." Let the claims and virtues of +persons be never so great and welcome, the instinct of man +presses eagerly onward to the impersonal and illimitable, +and gladly arms itself against the dogmatism of bigots with +this generous word out of the book itself. + +The natural world may be conceived of as a system of +concentric circles, and we now and then detect in +nature slight dislocations which apprise us that this +surface on which we now stand is not fixed, but sliding. +These manifold tenacious qualities, this chemistry and +vegetation, these metals and animals, which seem to +stand there for their own sake, are means and methods +only,--are words of God, and as fugitive as other words. +Has the naturalist or chemist learned his craft, who +has explored the gravity of atoms and the elective +affinities, who has not yet discerned the deeper law +whereof this is only a partial or approximate statement, +namely that like draws to like, and that the goods which +belong to you gravitate to you and need not be pursued +with pains and cost? Yet is that statement approximate +also, and not final. Omnipresence is a higher fact. Not +through subtle subterranean channels need friend and fact +be drawn to their counterpart, but, rightly considered, +these things proceed from the eternal generation of the +soul. Cause and effect are two sides of one fact. + +The same law of eternal procession ranges all that +we call the virtues, and extinguishes each in the +light of a better. The great man will not be prudent +in the popular sense; all his prudence will be so much +deduction from his grandeur. But it behooves each to +see, when he sacrifices prudence, to what god he +devotes it; if to ease and pleasure, he had better +be prudent still; if to a great trust, he can well +spare his mule and panniers who has a winged chariot +instead. Geoffrey draws on his boots to go through +the woods, that his feet may be safer from the bite +of snakes; Aaron never thinks of such a peril. In many +years neither is harmed by such an accident. Yet it +seems to me that with every precaution you take against +such an evil you put yourself into the power of the evil. +I suppose that the highest prudence is the lowest prudence. +Is this too sudden a rushing from the centre to the verge +of our orbit? Think how many times we shall fall back into +pitiful calculations before we take up our rest in the +great sentiment, or make the verge of to-day the new +centre. Besides, your bravest sentiment is familiar to +the humblest men. The poor and the low have their way of +expressing the last facts of philosophy as well as you. +"Blessed be nothing" and "The worse things are, the better +they are" are proverbs which express the transcendentalism +of common life. + +One man's justice is another's injustice; one man's +beauty another's ugliness; one man's wisdom another's +folly; as one beholds the same objects from a higher +point. One man thinks justice consists in paying debts, +and has no measure in his abhorrence of another who is +very remiss in this duty and makes the creditor wait +tediously. But that second man has his own way of +looking at things; asks himself Which debt must I pay +first, the debt to the rich, or the debt to the poor? +the debt of money, or the debt of thought to mankind, +of genius to nature? For you, O broker, there is no +other principle but arithmetic. For me, commerce is of +trivial import; love, faith, truth of character, the +aspiration of man, these are sacred; nor can I detach +one duty, like you, from all other duties, and concentrate +my forces mechanically on the payment of moneys. Let me +live onward; you shall find that, though slower, the +progress of my character will liquidate all these debts +without injustice to higher claims. If a man should +dedicate himself to the payment of notes, would not this +be injustice? Does he owe no debt but money? And are all +claims on him to be postponed to a landlord's or a banker's? + +There is no virtue which is final; all are initial. +The virtues of society are vices of the saint. The +terror of reform is the discovery that we must cast +away our virtues, or what we have always esteemed +such, into the same pit that has consumed our grosser +vices:-- + + "Forgive his crimes, forgive his virtues too, + Those smaller faults, half converts to the right." + +It is the highest power of divine moments that they +abolish our contritions also. I accuse myself of sloth +and unprofitableness day by day; but when these waves +of God flow into me I no longer reckon lost time. I no +longer poorly compute my possible achievement by what +remains to me of the month or the year; for these moments +confer a sort of omnipresence and omnipotence which asks +nothing of duration, but sees that the energy of the mind +is commensurate with the work to be done, without time. + +And thus, O circular philosopher, I hear some reader +exclaim, you have arrived at a fine Pyrrhonism, at an +equivalence and indifferency of all actions, and would +fain teach us that if we are true, forsooth, our crimes +may be lively stones out of which we shall construct the +temple of the true God! + +I am not careful to justify myself. I own I am +gladdened by seeing the predominance of the saccharine +principle throughout vegetable nature, and not less by +beholding in morals that unrestrained inundation of +the principle of good into every chink and hole that +selfishness has left open, yea into selfishness and sin +itself; so that no evil is pure, nor hell itself without +its extreme satisfactions. But lest I should mislead any +when I have my own head and obey my whims, let me remind +the reader that I am only an experimenter. Do not set +the least value on what I do, or the least discredit on +what I do not, as if I pretended to settle any thing as +true or false. I unsettle all things. No facts are to me +sacred; none are profane; I simply experiment, an endless +seeker with no Past at my back. + +Yet this incessant movement and progression which all +things partake could never become sensible to us but +by contrast to some principle of fixture or stability +in the soul. Whilst the eternal generation of circles +proceeds, the eternal generator abides. That central +life is somewhat superior to creation, superior to +knowledge and thought, and contains all its circles. +For ever it labors to create a life and thought as +Large and excellent as itself, but in vain, for that +which is made instructs how to make a better. + +Thus there is no sleep, no pause, no preservation, +but all things renew, germinate and spring. Why +should we import rags and relics into the new hour? +Nature abhors the old, and old age seems the only +disease; all others run into this one. We call it by +many names,--fever, intemperance, insanity, stupidity +and crime; they are all forms of old age; they are +rest, conservatism, appropriation, inertia; not newness, +not the way onward. We grizzle every day. I see no need +of it. Whilst we converse with what is above us, we do +not grow old, but grow young. Infancy, youth, receptive, +aspiring, with religious eye looking upward, counts +itself nothing and abandons itself to the instruction +flowing from all sides. But the man and woman of seventy +assume to know all, they have outlived their hope, they +renounce aspiration, accept the actual for the necessary +and talk down to the young. Let them, then, become organs +of the Holy Ghost; let them be lovers; let them behold +truth; and their eyes are uplifted, their wrinkles smoothed, +they are perfumed again with hope and power. This old age +ought not to creep on a human mind. In nature every moment +is new; the past is always swallowed and forgotten; the +coming only is sacred. Nothing is secure but life, +transition, the energizing spirit. No love can be bound +by oath or covenant to secure it against a higher love. +No truth so sublime but it may be trivial to-morrow in +the light of new thoughts. People wish to be settled; only +as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them. + +Life is a series of surprises. We do not guess to-day +the mood, the pleasure, the power of to-morrow, when we +are building up our being. Of lower states, of acts of +routine and sense, we can tell somewhat; but the +masterpieces of God, the total growths and universal +movements of the soul, he hideth; they are incalculable. +I can know that truth is divine and helpful; but how it +shall help me I can have no guess, for so to be is the +sole inlet of so to know. The new position of the +advancing man has all the powers of the old, yet has +them all new. It carries in its bosom all the energies +of the past, yet is itself an exhalation of the morning. +I cast away in this new moment all my once hoarded +knowledge, as vacant and vain. Now, for the first time +seem I to know any thing rightly. The simplest words,--we +do not know what they mean except when we love and aspire. + +The difference between talents and character is +adroitness to keep the old and trodden round, and +power and courage to make a new road to new and +better goals. Character makes an overpowering present; +a cheerful, determined hour, which fortifies all the +company by making them see that much is possible and +excellent that was not thought of. Character dulls +the impression of particular events. When we see the +conqueror we do not think much of any one battle or +success. We see that we had exaggerated the difficulty. +It was easy to him. The great man is not convulsible or +tormentable; events pass over him without much impression. +People say sometimes, 'See what I have overcome; see how +cheerful I am; see how completely I have triumphed over +these black events.' Not if they still remind me of the +black event. True conquest is the causing the calamity +to fade and disappear as an early cloud of insignificant +result in a history so large and advancing. + +The one thing which we seek with insatiable desire is to +forget ourselves, to be surprised out of our propriety, +to lose our sempiternal memory and to do something without +knowing how or why; in short to draw a new circle. Nothing +great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. The way of life +is wonderful; it is by abandonment. The great moments of +history are the facilities of performance through the +strength of ideas, as the works of genius and religion. +"A man" said Oliver Cromwell "never rises so high as when +he knows not whither he is going." Dreams and drunkenness, +the use of opium and alcohol are the semblance and counterfeit +of this oracular genius, and hence their dangerous attraction +for men. For the like reason they ask the aid of wild passions, +as in gaming and war, to ape in some manner these flames and +generosities of the heart. + + + + +INTELLECT. + +GO, speed the stars of Thought +On to their shining goals;-- +The sower scatters broad his seed, +The wheat thou strew'st be souls. + +XI. +INTELLECT. + +Every substance is negatively electric to that which +stands above it in the chemical tables, positively to +that which stands below it. Water dissolves wood and +iron and salt; air dissolves water; electric fire +dissolves air, but the intellect dissolves fire, +gravity, laws, method, and the subtlest unnamed relations +of nature in its resistless menstruum. Intellect lies +behind genius, which is intellect constructive. Intellect +is the simple power anterior to all action or construction. +Gladly would I unfold in calm degrees a natural history of +the intellect, but what man has yet been able to mark the +steps and boundaries of that transparent essence? The first +questions are always to be asked, and the wisest doctor is +gravelled by the inquisitiveness of a child. How can we +speak of the action of the mind under any divisions, as of +its knowledge, of its ethics, of its works, and so forth, +since it melts will into perception, knowledge into act? +Each becomes the other. Itself alone is. Its vision is not +like the vision of the eye, but is union with the things +known. + +Intellect and intellection signify to the common ear +consideration of abstract truth. The considerations of +time and place, of you and me, of profit and hurt +tyrannize over most men's minds. Intellect separates +the fact considered, from you, from all local and +personal reference, and discerns it as if it existed +for its own sake. Heraclitus looked upon the affections +as dense and colored mists. In the fog of good and +evil affections it is hard for man to walk forward in +a straight line. Intellect is void of affection and +sees an object as it stands in the light of science, +cool and disengaged. The intellect goes out of the +individual, floats over its own personality, and +regards it as a fact, and not as I and mine. He who +is immersed in what concerns person or place cannot +see the problem of existence. This the intellect always +ponders. Nature shows all things formed and bound. The +intellect pierces the form, overleaps the wall, detects +intrinsic likeness between remote things and reduces all +things into a few principles. + +The making a fact the subject of thought raises it. All +that mass of mental and moral phenomena which we do not +make objects of voluntary thought, come within the power +of fortune; they constitute the circumstance of daily +life; they are subject to change, to fear, and hope. +Every man beholds his human condition with a degree of +melancholy. As a ship aground is battered by the waves, +so man, imprisoned in mortal life, lies open to the mercy +of coming events. But a truth, separated by the intellect, +is no longer a subject of destiny. We behold it as a god +upraised above care and fear. And so any fact in our life, +or any record of our fancies or reflections, disentangled +from the web of our unconsciousness, becomes an object +impersonal and immortal. It is the past restored, but +embalmed. A better art than that of Egypt has taken fear +and corruption out of it. It is eviscerated of care. It +is offered for science. What is addressed to us for +contemplation does not threaten us but makes us intellectual +beings. + +The growth of the intellect is spontaneous in every +expansion. The mind that grows could not predict the +times, the means, the mode of that spontaneity. God +enters by a private door into every individual. Long +prior to the age of reflection is the thinking of the +mind. Out of darkness it came insensibly into the +marvellous light of to-day. In the period of infancy it +accepted and disposed of all impressions from the +surrounding creation after its own way. Whatever any mind +doth or saith is after a law; and this native law remains +over it after it has come to reflection or conscious thought. +In the most worn, pedantic, introverted self-tormenter's +life, the greatest part is incalculable by him, unforeseen, +unimaginable, and must be, until he can take himself up by +his own ears. What am I? What has my will done to make me +that I am? Nothing. I have been floated into this thought, +this hour, this connection of events, by secret currents of +might and mind, and my ingenuity and wilfulness have not +thwarted, have not aided to an appreciable degree. + +Our spontaneous action is always the best. You +cannot with your best deliberation and heed come +so close to any question as your spontaneous glance +shall bring you, whilst you rise from your bed, or +walk abroad in the morning after meditating the +matter before sleep on the previous night. Our +thinking is a pious reception. Our truth of thought +is therefore vitiated as much by too violent direction +given by our will, as by too great negligence. We do +not determine what we will think. We only open our +senses, clear away as we can all obstruction from the +fact, and suffer the intellect to see. We have little +control over our thoughts. We are the prisoners of +ideas. They catch us up for moments into their heaven +and so fully engage us that we take no thought for the +morrow, gaze like children, without an effort to make +them our own. By and by we fall out of that rapture, +bethink us where we have been, what we have seen, and +repeat as truly as we can what we have beheld. As far +as we can recall these ecstasies we carry away in the +ineffaceable memory the result, and all men and all the +ages confirm it. It is called Truth. But the moment we +cease to report and attempt to correct and contrive, it +is not truth. + +If we consider what persons have stimulated and +profited us, we shall perceive the superiority of +the spontaneous or intuitive principle over the +arithmetical or logical. The first contains the +second, but virtual and latent. We want in every man +a long logic; we cannot pardon the absence of it, but +it must not be spoken. Logic is the procession or +proportionate unfolding of the intuition; but its +virtue is as silent method; the moment it would appear +as propositions and have a separate value it is worthless. + +In every man's mind, some images, words and facts +remain, without effort on his part to imprint them, +which others forget, and afterwards these illustrate +to him important laws. All our progress is an unfolding, +like the vegetable bud. You have first an instinct, then +an opinion, then a knowledge, as the plant has root, bud +and fruit. Trust the instinct to the end, though you can +render no reason. It is vain to hurry it. By trusting it +to the end, it shall ripen into truth and you shall know +why you believe. + +Each mind has its own method. A true man never +acquires after college rules. What you have aggregated +in a natural manner surprises and delights when it is +produced. For we cannot oversee each other's secret. +And hence the differences between men in natural endowment +are insignificant in comparison with their common wealth. +Do you think the porter and the cook have no anecdotes, +no experiences, no wonders for you? Every body knows as +much as the savant. The walls of rude minds are scrawled +all over with facts, with thoughts. They shall one day +bring a lantern and read the inscriptions. Every man, in +the degree in which he has wit and culture, finds his +curiosity inflamed concerning the modes of living and +thinking of other men, and especially of those classes +whose minds have not been subdued by the drill of school +education. + +This instinctive action never ceases in a healthy mind, +but becomes richer and more frequent in its informations +through all states of culture. At last comes the era of +reflection, when we not only observe, but take pains to +observe; when we of set purpose sit down to consider an +abstract truth; when we keep the mind's eye open whilst +we converse, whilst we read, whilst we act, intent to +learn the secret law of some class of facts. + +What is the hardest task in the world? To think. I would +put myself in the attitude to look in the eye an abstract +truth, and I cannot. I blench and withdraw on this side +and on that. I seem to know what he meant who said, No man +can see God face to face and live. For example, a man +explores the basis of civil government. Let him intend his +mind without respite, without rest, in one direction. His +best heed long time avails him nothing. Yet thoughts are +flitting before him. We all but apprehend, we dimly forebode +the truth. We say I will walk abroad, and the truth will +take form and clearness to me. We go forth, but cannot find +it. It seems as if we needed only the stillness and composed +attitude of the library to seize the thought. But we come in, +and are as far from it as at first. Then, in a moment, and +unannounced, the truth appears. A certain wandering light +appears, and is the distinction, the principle, we wanted. +But the oracle comes because we had previously laid siege +to the shrine. It seems as if the law of the intellect +resembled that law of nature by which we now inspire, now +expire the breath; by which the heart now draws in, then +hurls out the blood,--the law of undulation. So now you must +labor with your brains, and now you must forbear your +activity and see what the great Soul showeth. + +The immortality of man is as legitimately preached +from the intellections as from the moral volitions. +Every intellection is mainly prospective. Its present +value is its least. Inspect what delights you in +Plutarch, in Shakspeare, in Cervantes. Each truth that +a writer acquires is a lantern, which he turns full +on what facts and thoughts lay already in his mind, +and behold, all the mats and rubbish which had littered +his garret become precious. Every trivial fact in his +private biography becomes an illustration of this new +principle, revisits the day, and delights all men by +its piquancy and new charm. Men say, Where did he get +this? and think there was something divine in his life. +But no; they have myriads of facts just as good, would +they only get a lamp to ransack their attics withal. + +We are all wise. The difference between persons is +not in wisdom but in art. I knew, in an academical +club, a person who always deferred to me; who, seeing +my whim for writing, fancied that my experiences had +somewhat superior; whilst I saw that his experiences +were as good as mine. Give them to me and I would make +the same use of them. He held the old; he holds the +new; I had the habit of tacking together the old and +the new which he did not use to exercise. This may +hold in the great examples. Perhaps if we should meet +Shakspeare we should not be conscious of any steep +inferiority; no, but of a great equality,--only that +he possessed a strange skill of using, of classifying, +his facts, which we lacked. For notwithstanding our +utter incapacity to produce anything like Hamlet and +Othello, see the perfect reception this wit and immense +knowledge of life and liquid eloquence find in us all. + +If you gather apples in the sunshine, or make hay, or +hoe corn, and then retire within doors and shut your +eyes and press them with your hand, you shall still see +apples hanging in the bright light with boughs and leaves +thereto, or the tasselled grass, or the corn-flags, and +this for five or six hours afterwards. There lie the +impressions on the retentive organ, though you knew it +not. So lies the whole series of natural images with which +your life has made you acquainted, in your memory, though +you know it not; and a thrill of passion flashes light on +their dark chamber, and the active power seizes instantly +the fit image, as the word of its momentary thought. + +It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our +history, we are sure, is quite tame: we have nothing +to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still +run back to the despised recollections of childhood, +and always we are fishing up some wonderful article +out of that pond; until by and by we begin to suspect +that the biography of the one foolish person we know is, +in reality, nothing less than the miniature paraphrase +of the hundred volumes of the Universal History. + +In the intellect constructive, which we popularly +designate by the word Genius, we observe the same +balance of two elements as in intellect receptive. +The constructive intellect produces thoughts, sentences, +poems, plans, designs, systems. It is the generation of +the mind, the marriage of thought with nature. To genius +must always go two gifts, the thought and the publication. +The first is revelation, always a miracle, which no +frequency of occurrence or incessant study can ever +familiarize, but which must always leave the inquirer +stupid with wonder. It is the advent of truth into the +world, a form of thought now for the first time bursting +into the universe, a child of the old eternal soul, a +piece of genuine and immeasurable greatness. It seems, +for the time, to inherit all that has yet existed and +to dictate to the unborn. It affects every thought of +man and goes to fashion every institution. But to make +it available it needs a vehicle or art by which it is +conveyed to men. To be communicable it must become +picture or sensible object. We must learn the language +of facts. The most wonderful inspirations die with their +subject if he has no hand to paint them to the senses. +The ray of light passes invisible through space and +only when it falls on an object is it seen. When the +spiritual energy is directed on something outward, then +it is a thought. The relation between it and you first +makes you, the value of you, apparent to me. The rich +inventive genius of the painter must be smothered and +lost for want of the power of drawing, and in our happy +hours we should be inexhaustible poets if once we could +break through the silence into adequate rhyme. As all +men have some access to primary truth, so all have some +art or power of communication in their head, but only in +the artist does it descend into the hand. There is an +inequality, whose laws we do not yet know, between two +men and between two moments of the same man, in respect +to this faculty. In common hours we have the same facts +as in the uncommon or inspired, but they do not sit for +their portraits; they are not detached, but lie in a web. +The thought of genius is spontaneous; but the power of +picture or expression, in the most enriched and flowing +nature, implies a mixture of will, a certain control over +the spontaneous states, without which no production is +possible. It is a conversion of all nature into the +rhetoric of thought, under the eye of judgment, with a +strenuous exercise of choice. And yet the imaginative +vocabulary seems to be spontaneous also. It does not flow +from experience only or mainly, but from a richer source. +Not by any conscious imitation of particular forms are the +grand strokes of the painter executed, but by repairing to +the fountain-head of all forms in his mind. Who is the first +drawing-master? Without instruction we know very well the +ideal of the human form. A child knows if an arm or a leg +be distorted in a picture; if the attitude be natural or +grand or mean; though he has never received any instruction +in drawing or heard any conversation on the subject, nor +can himself draw with correctness a single feature. A good +form strikes all eyes pleasantly, long before they have any +science on the subject, and a beautiful face sets twenty +hearts in palpitation, prior to all consideration of the +mechanical proportions of the features and head. We may owe +to dreams some light on the fountain of this skill; for as +soon as we let our will go and let the unconscious states +ensue, see what cunning draughtsmen we are! We entertain +ourselves with wonderful forms of men, of women, of animals, +of gardens, of woods and of monsters, and the mystic pencil +wherewith we then draw has no awkwardness or inexperience, +no meagreness or poverty; it can design well and group well; +its composition is full of art, its colors are well laid on +and the whole canvas which it paints is lifelike and apt to +touch us with terror, with tenderness, with desire and with +grief. Neither are the artist's copies from experience ever +mere copies, but always touched and softened by tints from +this ideal domain. + +The conditions essential to a constructive mind do +not appear to be so often combined but that a good +sentence or verse remains fresh and memorable for a +long time. Yet when we write with ease and come out +into the free air of thought, we seem to be assured +that nothing is easier than to continue this +communication at pleasure. Up, down, around, the +kingdom of thought has no inclosures, but the Muse +makes us free of her city. Well, the world has a +million writers. One would think then that good thought +would be as familiar as air and water, and the gifts of +each new hour would exclude the last. Yet we can count +all our good books; nay, I remember any beautiful verse +for twenty years. It is true that the discerning intellect +of the world is always much in advance of the creative, +so that there are many competent judges of the best book, +and few writers of the best books. But some of the +conditions of intellectual construction are of rare +occurrence. The intellect is a whole and demands integrity +in every work. This is resisted equally by a man's devotion +to a single thought and by his ambition to combine too many. + +Truth is our element of life, yet if a man fasten his +attention on a single aspect of truth and apply himself +to that alone for a long time, the truth becomes distorted +and not itself but falsehood; herein resembling the air, +which is our natural element, and the breath of our +nostrils, but if a stream of the same be directed on the +body for a time, it causes cold, fever, and even death. +How wearisome the grammarian, the phrenologist, the +political or religious fanatic, or indeed any possessed +mortal whose balance is lost by the exaggeration of a +single topic. It is incipient insanity. Every thought is +a prison also. I cannot see what you see, because I am +caught up by a strong wind and blown so far in one direction +that I am out of the hoop of your horizon. + +Is it any better if the student, to avoid this offence, +and to liberalize himself, aims to make a mechanical +whole of history, or science, or philosophy, by a +numerical addition of all the facts that fall within +his vision? The world refuses to be analyzed by addition +and subtraction. When we are young we spend much time +and pains in filling our note-books with all definitions +of Religion, Love, Poetry, Politics, Art, in the hope +that in the course of a few years we shall have condensed +into our encyclopaedia the net value of all the theories +at which the world has yet arrived. But year after year +our tables get no completeness, and at last we discover +that our curve is a parabola, whose arcs will never meet. + +Neither by detachment neither by aggregation is the +integrity of the intellect transmitted to its works, +but by a vigilance which brings the intellect in its +greatness and best state to operate every moment. It +must have the same wholeness which nature has. Although +no diligence can rebuild the universe in a model by +the best accumulation or disposition of details, yet +does the world reappear in miniature in every event, so +that all the laws of nature may be read in the smallest +fact. The intellect must have the like perfection in its +apprehension and in its works. For this reason, an index +or mercury of intellectual proficiency is the perception +of identity. We talk with accomplished persons who appear +to be strangers in nature. The cloud, the tree, the turf, +the bird are not theirs, have nothing of them; the world +is only their lodging and table. But the poet, whose verses +are to be spheral and complete, is one whom Nature cannot +deceive, whatsoever face of strangeness she may put on. +He feels a strict consanguinity, and detects more likeness +than variety in all her changes. We are stung by the desire +for new thought; but when we receive a new thought it is +only the old thought with a new face, and though we make +it our own we instantly crave another; we are not really +enriched. For the truth was in us before it was reflected +to us from natural objects; and the profound genius will +cast the likeness of all creatures into every product of +his wit. + +But if the constructive powers are rare and it is +given to few men to be poets, yet every man is a +receiver of this descending holy ghost, and may +well study the laws of its influx. Exactly parallel +is the whole rule of intellectual duty to the rule +of moral duty. A self-denial no less austere than +the saint's is demanded of the scholar. He must +worship truth, and forego all things for that, and +choose defeat and pain, so that his treasure in +thought is thereby augmented. + +God offers to every mind its choice between truth and +repose. Take which you please,--you can never have both. +Between these, as a pendulum, man oscillates. He in whom +the love of repose predominates will accept the first +creed, the first philosophy, the first political party +he meets,--most likely his father's. He gets rest, +commodity, and reputation; but he shuts the door of +truth. He in whom the love of truth predominates will +keep himself aloof from all moorings, and afloat. He +will abstain from dogmatism, and recognize all the +opposite negations between which, as walls, his being +is swung. He submits to the inconvenience of suspense +and imperfect opinion, but he is a candidate for truth, +as the other is not, and respects the highest law of +his being. + +The circle of the green earth he must measure with +his shoes to find the man who can yield him truth. +He shall then know that there is somewhat more blessed +and great in hearing than in speaking. Happy is the +hearing man; unhappy the speaking man. As long as I +hear truth I am bathed by a beautiful element and am +not conscious of any limits to my nature. The suggestions +are thousandfold that I hear and see. The waters of the +great deep have ingress and egress to the soul. But if I +speak, I define, I confine and am less. When Socrates +speaks, Lysis and Menexenus are afflicted by no shame +that they do not speak. They also are good. He likewise +defers to them, loves them, whilst he speaks. Because a +true and natural man contains and is the same truth which +an eloquent man articulates; but in the eloquent man, +because he can articulate it, it seems something the less +to reside, and he turns to these silent beautiful with the +more inclination and respect. The ancient sentence said, +Let us be silent, for so are the gods. Silence is a solvent +that destroys personality, and gives us leave to be great +and universal. Every man's progress is through a succession +of teachers, each of whom seems at the time to have a +superlative influence, but it at last gives place to a new. +Frankly let him accept it all. Jesus says, Leave father, +mother, house and lands, and follow me. Who leaves all, +receives more. This is as true intellectually as morally. +Each new mind we approach seems to require an abdication of +all our past and present possessions. A new doctrine seems +at first a subversion of all our opinions, tastes, and +manner of living. Such has Swedenborg, such has Kant, such +has Coleridge, such has Hegel or his interpreter Cousin +seemed to many young men in this country. Take thankfully +and heartily all they can give. Exhaust them, wrestle with +them, let them not go until their blessing be won, and after +a short season the dismay will be overpast, the excess of +influence withdrawn, and they will be no longer an alarming +meteor, but one more bright star shining serenely in your +heaven and blending its light with all your day. + +But whilst he gives himself up unreservedly to that +which draws him, because that is his own, he is to +refuse himself to that which draws him not, whatsoever +fame and authority may attend it, because it is not +his own. Entire self-reliance belongs to the intellect. +One soul is a counterpoise of all souls, as a capillary +column of water is a balance for the sea. It must treat +things and books and sovereign genius as itself also a +sovereign. If Aeschylus be that man he is taken for, he +has not yet done his office when he has educated the +learned of Europe for a thousand years. He is now to +approve himself a master of delight to me also. If he +cannot do that, all his fame shall avail him nothing +with me. I were a fool not to sacrifice a thousand +Aeschyluses to my intellectual integrity. Especially +take the same ground in regard to abstract truth, the +science of the mind. The Bacon, the Spinoza, the Hume, +Schelling, Kant, or whosoever propounds to you a philosophy +of the mind, is only a more or less awkward translator of +things in your consciousness which you have also your way +of seeing, perhaps of denominating. Say then, instead of +too timidly poring into his obscure sense, that he has not +succeeded in rendering back to you your consciousness. He +has not succeeded; now let another try. If Plato cannot, +perhaps Spinoza will. If Spinoza cannot, then perhaps Kant. +Anyhow, when at last it is done, you will find it is no +recondite, but a simple, natural, common state which the +writer restores to you. + +But let us end these didactics. I will not, though +the subject might provoke it, speak to the open +question between Truth and Love. I shall not presume +to interfere in the old politics of the skies;--"The +cherubim know most; the seraphim love most." The gods +shall settle their own quarrels. But I cannot recite, +even thus rudely, laws of the intellect, without +remembering that lofty and sequestered class of men +who have been its prophets and oracles, the high- +priesthood of the pure reason, the Trismegisti, the +expounders of the principles of thought from age to +age. When at long intervals we turn over their abstruse +pages, wonderful seems the calm and grand air of these +few, these great spiritual lords who have walked in the +world,--these of the old religion,--dwelling in a worship +which makes the sanctities of Christianity look parvenues +and popular; for "persuasion is in soul, but necessity is +in intellect." This band of grandees, Hermes, Heraclitus, +Empedocles, Plato, Plotinus, Olympiodorus, Proclus, +Synesius and the rest, have somewhat so vast in their +logic, so primary in their thinking, that it seems +antecedent to all the ordinary distinctions of rhetoric +and literature, and to be at once poetry and music and +dancing and astronomy and mathematics. I am present at +the sowing of the seed of the world. With a geometry of +sunbeams the soul lays the foundations of nature. The +truth and grandeur of their thought is proved by its scope +and applicability, for it commands the entire schedule and +inventory of things for its illustration. But what marks +its elevation and has even a comic look to us, is the +innocent serenity with which these babe-like Jupiters sit +in their clouds, and from age to age prattle to each other +and to no contemporary. Well assured that their speech is +intelligible and the most natural thing in the world, they +add thesis to thesis, without a moment's heed of the +universal astonishment of the human race below, who do not +comprehend their plainest argument; nor do they ever relent +so much as to insert a popular or explaining sentence, nor +testify the least displeasure or petulance at the dulness +of their amazed auditory. The angels are so enamored of +the language that is spoken in heaven that they will not +distort their lips with the hissing and unmusical dialects +of men, but speak their own, whether there be any who +understand it or not. + + + + +ART. + +GIVE to barrows trays and pans +Grace and glimmer of romance, +Bring the moonlight into noon +Hid in gleaming piles of stone; +On the city's paved street +Plant gardens lined with lilac sweet, +Let spouting fountains cool the air, +Singing in the sun-baked square. +Let statue, picture, park and hall, +Ballad, flag and festival, +The past restore, the day adorn +And make each morrow a new morn +So shall the drudge in dusty frock +Spy behind the city clock +Retinues of airy kings, +Skirts of angels, starry wings, +His fathers shining in bright fables, +His children fed at heavenly tables. +'Tis the privilege of Art +Thus to play its cheerful part, +Man in Earth to acclimate +And bend the exile to his fate, +And, moulded of one element +With the days and firmament, +Teach him on these as stairs to climb +And live on even terms with Time; +Whilst upper life the slender rill +Of human sense doth overfill. + +XII. +ART. + +Because the soul is progressive, it never quite +repeats itself, but in every act attempts the +production of a new and fairer whole. This appears +in works both of the useful and the fine arts, if +we employ the popular distinction of works according +to their aim either at use or beauty. Thus in our +fine arts, not imitation but creation is the aim. In +landscapes the painter should give the suggestion of +a fairer creation than we know. The details, the prose +of nature he should omit and give us only the spirit +and splendor. He should know that the landscape has +beauty for his eye because it expresses a thought +which is to him good; and this because the same power +which sees through his eyes is seen in that spectacle; +and he will come to value the expression of nature and +not nature itself, and so exalt in his copy the features +that please him. He will give the gloom of gloom and the +sunshine of sunshine. In a portrait he must inscribe the +character and not the features, and must esteem the man +who sits to him as himself only an imperfect picture or +likeness of the aspiring original within. + +What is that abridgment and selection we observe +in all spiritual activity, but itself the creative +impulse? for it is the inlet of that higher +illumination which teaches to convey a larger sense +by simpler symbols. What is a man but nature's finer +success in self-explication? What is a man but a finer +and compacter landscape than the horizon figures,-- +nature's eclecticism? and what is his speech, his love +of painting, love of nature, but a still finer success, +--all the weary miles and tons of space and bulk left +out, and the spirit or moral of it contracted into a +musical word, or the most cunning stroke of the pencil? + +But the artist must employ the symbols in use in +his day and nation to convey his enlarged sense to +his fellow-men. Thus the new in art is always formed +out of the old. The Genius of the Hour sets his +ineffaceable seal on the work and gives it an +inexpressible charm for the imagination. As far as +the spiritual character of the period overpowers the +artist and finds expression in his work, so far it +will retain a certain grandeur, and will represent +to future beholders the Unknown, the Inevitable, the +Divine. No man can quite exclude this element of +Necessity from his labor. No man can quite emancipate +himself from his age and country, or produce a model +in which the education, the religion, the politics, +usages and arts of his times shall have no share. +Though he were never so original, never so wilful +and fantastic, he cannot wipe out of his work every +trace of the thoughts amidst which it grew. The very +avoidance betrays the usage he avoids. Above his will +and out of his sight he is necessitated by the air he +breathes and the idea on which he and his contemporaries +live and toil, to share the manner of his times, without +knowing what that manner is. Now that which is inevitable +in the work has a higher charm than individual talent can +ever give, inasmuch as the artist's pen or chisel seems +to have been held and guided by a gigantic hand to inscribe +a line in the history of the human race. This circumstance +gives a value to the Egyptian hieroglyphics, to the Indian, +Chinese and Mexican idols, however gross and shapeless. +They denote the height of the human soul in that hour, +and were not fantastic, but sprung from a necessity as +deep as the world. Shall I now add that the whole extant +product of the plastic arts has herein its highest value, +as history; as a stroke drawn in the portrait of that fate, +perfect and beautiful, according to whose ordinations all +beings advance to their beatitude? + +Thus, historically viewed, it has been the office +of art to educate the perception of beauty. We are +immersed in beauty, but our eyes have no clear vision. +It needs, by the exhibition of single traits, to assist +and lead the dormant taste. We carve and paint, or we +behold what is carved and painted, as students of the +mystery of Form. The virtue of art lies in detachment, +in sequestering one object from the embarrassing variety. +Until one thing comes out from the connection of things, +there can be enjoyment, contemplation, but no thought. +Our happiness and unhappiness are unproductive. The +infant lies in a pleasing trance, but his individual +character and his practical power depend on his daily +progress in the separation of things, and dealing with +one at a time. Love and all the passions concentrate +all existence around a single form. It is the habit of +certain minds to give an all-excluding fulness to the +object, the thought, the word, they alight upon, and +to make that for the time the deputy of the world. +These are the artists, the orators, the leaders of +society. The power to detach and to magnify by detaching +is the essence of rhetoric in the hands of the orator and +the poet. This rhetoric, or power to fix the momentary +eminency of an object,--so remarkable in Burke, in Byron, +in Carlyle,--the painter and sculptor exhibit in color +and in stone. The power depends on the depth of the +artist's insight of that object he contemplates. For +every object has its roots in central nature, and may of +course be so exhibited to us as to represent the world. +Therefore each work of genius is the tyrant of the hour +And concentrates attention on itself. For the time, it +is the only thing worth naming to do that,--be it a +sonnet, an opera, a landscape, a statue, an oration, +the plan of a temple, of a campaign, or of a voyage of +discovery. Presently we pass to some other object, which +rounds itself into a whole as did the first; for example +a well-laid garden; and nothing seems worth doing but the +laying out of gardens. I should think fire the best thing +in the world, if I were not acquainted with air, and water, +and earth. For it is the right and property of all natural +objects, of all genuine talents, of all native properties +whatsoever, to be for their moment the top of the world. +A squirrel leaping from bough to bough and making the +Wood but one wide tree for his pleasure, fills the eye +not less than a lion,--is beautiful, self-sufficing, and +stands then and there for nature. A good ballad draws my +ear and heart whilst I listen, as much as an epic has +done before. A dog, drawn by a master, or a litter of +pigs, satisfies and is a reality not less than the +frescoes of Angelo. From this succession of excellent +objects we learn at last the immensity of the world, +the opulence of human nature, which can run out to +infinitude in any direction. But I also learn that what +astonished and fascinated me in the first work astonished +me in the second work also; that excellence of all things +is one. + +The office of painting and sculpture seems to be +merely initial. The best pictures can easily tell +us their last secret. The best pictures are rude +draughts of a few of the miraculous dots and lines +and dyes which make up the ever-changing "landscape +with figures" amidst which we dwell. Painting seems +to be to the eye what dancing is to the limbs. When +that has educated the frame to self-possession, to +nimbleness, to grace, the steps of the dancing-master +are better forgotten; so painting teaches me the +splendor of color and the expression of form, and as +I see many pictures and higher genius in the art, I +see the boundless opulence of the pencil, the +indifferency in which the artist stands free to choose +out of the possible forms. If he can draw every thing, +why draw any thing? and then is my eye opened to the +eternal picture which nature paints in the street, with +moving men and children, beggars and fine ladies, draped +in red and green and blue and gray; long-haired, grizzled, +white-faced, black-faced, wrinkled, giant, dwarf, expanded, +elfish,--capped and based by heaven, earth and sea. + +A gallery of sculpture teaches more austerely the +same lesson. As picture teaches the coloring, so +sculpture the anatomy of form. When I have seen +fine statues and afterwards enter a public assembly, +I understand well what he meant who said, "When I +have been reading Homer, all men look like giants." +I too see that painting and sculpture are gymnastics +of the eye, its training to the niceties and curiosities +of its function. There is no statue like this living +man, with his infinite advantage over all ideal sculpture, +of perpetual variety. What a gallery of art have I here! +No mannerist made these varied groups and diverse original +single figures. Here is the artist himself improvising, +grim and glad, at his block. Now one thought strikes him, +now another, and with each moment he alters the whole air, +attitude and expression of his clay. Away with your +nonsense of oil and easels, of marble and chisels; except +to open your eyes to the masteries of eternal art, they +are hypocritical rubbish. + +The reference of all production at last to an +aboriginal Power explains the traits common to all +works of the highest art,--that they are universally +intelligible; that they restore to us the simplest +states of mind, and are religious. Since what skill +is therein shown is the reappearance of the original +soul, a jet of pure light, it should produce a similar +impression to that made by natural objects. In happy +hours, nature appears to us one with art; art perfected, +--the work of genius. And the individual, in whom simple +tastes and susceptibility to all the great human +influences overpower the accidents of a local and special +culture, is the best critic of art. Though we travel the +world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with +us, or we find it not. The best of beauty is a finer +charm than skill in surfaces, in outlines, or rules of +art can ever teach, namely a radiation from the work of +art of human character,--a wonderful expression through +stone, or canvas, or musical sound, of the deepest and +simplest attributes of our nature, and therefore most +intelligible at last to those souls which have these +attributes. In the sculptures of the Greeks, in the +masonry of the Romans, and in the pictures of the Tuscan +and Venetian masters, the highest charm is the universal +language they speak. A confession of moral nature, of +purity, love, and hope, breathes from them all. That +which we carry to them, the same we bring back more +fairly illustrated in the memory. The traveller who +visits the Vatican, and passes from chamber to chamber +through galleries of statues, vases, sarcophagi and +candelabra, through all forms of beauty cut in the +richest materials, is in danger of forgetting the +simplicity of the principles out of which they all +sprung, and that they had their origin from thoughts +and laws in his own breast. He studies the technical +rules on these wonderful remains, but forgets that +these works were not always thus constellated; that +they are the contributions of many ages and many +countries; that each came out of the solitary workshop +of one artist, who toiled perhaps in ignorance of the +existence of other sculpture, created his work without +other model save life, household life, and the sweet +and smart of personal relations, of beating hearts, and +meeting eyes; of poverty and necessity and hope and fear. +These were his inspirations, and these are the effects +he carries home to your heart and mind. In proportion to +his force, the artist will find in his work an outlet for +his proper character. He must not be in any manner pinched +or hindered by his material, but through his necessity +of imparting himself the adamant will be wax in his hands, +and will allow an adequate communication of himself, in +his full stature and proportion. He need not cumber himself +with a conventional nature and culture, nor ask what is the +mode in Rome or in Paris, but that house and weather and +manner of living which poverty and the fate of birth have +made at once so odious and so dear, in the gray unpainted +wood cabin, on the corner of a New Hampshire farm, or in +the log-hut of the backwoods, or in the narrow lodging +where he has endured the constraints and seeming of a city +poverty, will serve as well as any other condition as the +symbol of a thought which pours itself indifferently +through all. + +I remember when in my younger days I had heard of +the wonders of Italian painting, I fancied the great +pictures would be great strangers; some surprising +combination of color and form; a foreign wonder, +barbaric pearl and gold, like the spontoons and +standards of the militia, which play such pranks in +the eyes and imaginations of school-boys. I was to +see and acquire I knew not what. When I came at last +to Rome and saw with eyes the pictures, I found that +genius left to novices the gay and fantastic and +ostentatious, and itself pierced directly to the +simple and true; that it was familiar and sincere; +that it was the old, eternal fact I had met already +in so many forms,--unto which I lived; that it was +the plain you and me I knew so well,--had left at home +in so many conversations. I had the same experience +already in a church at Naples. There I saw that nothing +was changed with me but the place, and said to myself-- +'Thou foolish child, hast thou come out hither, over +four thousand miles of salt water, to find that which +was perfect to thee there at home?' That fact I saw +again in the Academmia at Naples, in the chambers of +sculpture, and yet again when I came to Rome and to +the paintings of Raphael, Angelo, Sacchi, Titian, and +Leonardo da Vinci. "What, old mole! workest thou in +the earth so fast?" It had travelled by my side; that +which I fancied I had left in Boston was here in the +Vatican, and again at Milan and at Paris, and made all +travelling ridiculous as a treadmill. I now require +this of all pictures, that they domesticate me, not +that they dazzle me. Pictures must not be too picturesque. +Nothing astonishes men so much as common-sense and +plain dealing. All great actions have been simple, and +all great pictures are. + +The Transfiguration, by Raphael, is an eminent +example of this peculiar merit. A calm benignant +beauty shines over all this picture, and goes +directly to the heart. It seems almost to call +you by name. The sweet and sublime face of Jesus +is beyond praise, yet how it disappoints all florid +expectations! This familiar, simple, home-speaking +countenance is as if one should meet a friend. The +knowledge of picture-dealers has its value, but +listen not to their criticism when your heart is +touched by genius. It was not painted for them, it +was painted for you; for such as had eyes capable +of being touched by simplicity and lofty emotions. + +Yet when we have said all our fine things about +the arts, we must end with a frank confession, that +the arts, as we know them, are but initial. Our best +praise is given to what they aimed and promised, not +to the actual result. He has conceived meanly of the +resources of man, who believes that the best age of +production is past. The real value of the Iliad or +the Transfiguration is as signs of power; billows or +ripples they are of the stream of tendency; tokens of +the everlasting effort to produce, which even in its +worst estate the soul betrays. Art has not yet come +to its maturity if it do not put itself abreast with +the most potent influences of the world, if it is not +practical and moral, if it do not stand in connection +with the conscience, if it do not make the poor and +uncultivated feel that it addresses them with a voice +of lofty cheer. There is higher work for Art than the +arts. They are abortive births of an imperfect or +vitiated instinct. Art is the need to create; but in +its essence, immense and universal, it is impatient of +working with lame or tied hands, and of making cripples +and monsters, such as all pictures and statues are. +Nothing less than the creation of man and nature is its +end. A man should find in it an outlet for his whole +energy. He may paint and carve only as long as he can +do that. Art should exhilarate, and throw down the +walls of circumstance on every side, awakening in the +beholder the same sense of universal relation and power +which the work evinced in the artist, and its highest +effect is to make new artists. + +Already History is old enough to witness the old +age and disappearance of particular arts. The art +of sculpture is long ago perished to any real effect. +It was originally a useful art, a mode of writing, a +savage's record of gratitude or devotion, and among +a people possessed of a wonderful perception of form +this childish carving was refined to the utmost +splendor of effect. But it is the game of a rude and +youthful people, and not the manly labor of a wise +and spiritual nation. Under an oak-tree loaded with +leaves and nuts, under a sky full of eternal eyes, I +stand in a thoroughfare; but in the works of our +plastic arts and especially of sculpture, creation +is driven into a corner. I cannot hide from myself +that there is a certain appearance of paltriness, as +of toys and the trumpery of a theatre, in sculpture. +Nature transcends all our moods of thought, and its +secret we do not yet find. But the gallery stands at +the mercy of our moods, and there is a moment when +it becomes frivolous. I do not wonder that Newton, +with an attention habitually engaged on the paths of +planets and suns, should have wondered what the Earl +of Pembroke found to admire in "stone dolls." Sculpture +may serve to teach the pupil how deep is the secret of +form, how purely the spirit can translate its meanings +into that eloquent dialect. But the statue will look +cold and false before that new activity which needs +to roll through all things, and is impatient of +counterfeits and things not alive. Picture and sculpture +are the celebrations and festivities of form. But true +art is never fixed, but always flowing. The sweetest music +is not in the oratorio, but in the human voice when it +speaks from its instant life tones of tenderness, truth, +or courage. The oratorio has already lost its relation to +the morning, to the sun, and the earth, but that persuading +voice is in tune with these. All works of art should not +be detached, but extempore performances. A great man is +a new statue in every attitude and action. A beautiful +woman is a picture which drives all beholders nobly mad. +Life may be lyric or epic, as well as a poem or a romance. + +A true announcement of the law of creation, if a +man were found worthy to declare it, would carry +art up into the kingdom of nature, and destroy its +separate and contrasted existence. The fountains +of invention and beauty in modern society are all +but dried up. A popular novel, a theatre, or a +ball-room makes us feel that we are all paupers in +the alms-house of this world, without dignity, +without skill or industry. Art is as poor and low. +The old tragic Necessity, which lowers on the brows +even of the Venuses and the Cupids of the antique, +and furnishes the sole apology for the intrusion of +such anomalous figures into nature,--namely, that +they were inevitable; that the artist was drunk with +a passion for form which he could not resist, and +which vented itself in these fine extravagances,--no +longer dignifies the chisel or the pencil. But the +artist and the connoisseur now seek in art the +exhibition of their talent, or an asylum from the +evils of life. Men are not well pleased with the +figure they make in their own imaginations, and they +flee to art, and convey their better sense in an +oratorio, a statue, or a picture. Art makes the same +effort which a sensual prosperity makes; namely to +detach the beautiful from the useful, to do up the +work as unavoidable, and, hating it, pass on to +enjoyment. These solaces and compensations, this +division of beauty from use, the laws of nature do +not permit. As soon as beauty is sought, not from +religion and love but for pleasure, it degrades the +seeker. High beauty is no longer attainable by him in +canvas or in stone, in sound, or in lyrical construction; +an effeminate, prudent, sickly beauty, which is not +beauty, is all that can be formed; for the hand can +never execute any thing higher than the character can +inspire. + +The art that thus separates is itself first separated. +Art must not be a superficial talent, but must begin +farther back in man. Now men do not see nature to be +beautiful, and they go to make a statue which shall +be. They abhor men as tasteless, dull, and inconvertible, +and console themselves with color-bags and blocks of +marble. They reject life as prosaic, and create a death +which they call poetic. They despatch the day's weary +chores, and fly to voluptuous reveries. They eat and +drink, that they may afterwards execute the ideal. Thus +is art vilified; the name conveys to the mind its +secondary and bad senses; it stands in the imagination +as somewhat contrary to nature, and struck with death +from the first. Would it not be better to begin higher +up,--to serve the ideal before they eat and drink; to +serve the ideal in eating and drinking, in drawing the +breath, and in the functions of life? Beauty must come +back to the useful arts, and the distinction between +the fine and the useful arts be forgotten. If history +were truly told, if life were nobly spent, it would be +no longer easy or possible to distinguish the one from +the other. In nature, all is useful, all is beautiful. +It is therefore beautiful because it is alive, moving, +reproductive; it is therefore useful because it is +symmetrical and fair. Beauty will not come at the call +of a legislature, nor will it repeat in England or +America its history in Greece. It will come, as always, +unannounced, and spring up between the feet of brave +and earnest men. It is in vain that we look for genius +to reiterate its miracles in the old arts; it is its +instinct to find beauty and holiness in new and necessary +facts, in the field and road-side, in the shop and mill. +Proceeding from a religious heart it will raise to a +divine use the railroad, the insurance office, the joint- +stock company; our law, our primary assemblies, our +commerce, the galvanic battery, the electric jar, the +prism, and the chemist's retort; in which we seek now +only an economical use. Is not the selfish and even cruel +aspect which belongs to our great mechanical works, to +mills, railways, and machinery, the effect of the mercenary +impulses which these works obey? When its errands are noble +and adequate, a steamboat bridging the Atlantic between Old +and New England and arriving at its ports with the +punctuality of a planet, is a step of man into harmony with +nature. The boat at St. Petersburg, which plies along the +Lena by magnetism, needs little to make it sublime. When +science is learned in love, and its powers are wielded by +love, they will appear the supplements and continuations +of the material creation. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Essays, 1st Series, by Ralph Waldo Emerson + |