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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/78986-0.txt b/78986-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bac51b --- /dev/null +++ b/78986-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4664 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78986 *** + + + + + RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + + + + VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES + + Published and in Preparation + + _Edited by_ WILL D. HOWE + + + ARNOLD _Stuart P. Sherman_ + BROWNING _William Lyon Phelps_ + BURNS _William Allan Neilson_ + CARLYLE _Bliss Perry_ + DANTE _Alfred M. Brooks_ + DEFOE _William P. Trent_ + DICKENS _Richard Burton_ + EMERSON _Samuel McChord Crothers_ + HAWTHORNE _George Edward Woodberry_ + THE BIBLE _George Hodges_ + IBSEN _Archibald Henderson_ + LAMB _Will D. Howe_ + STEVENSON _Richard A. Rice_ + TENNYSON _Raymond Macdonald Alden_ + WHITMAN _Brand Whitlock_ + WORDSWORTH _C. T. Winchester_ + + + + + [Illustration: RW Emerson] + + + + + Ralph Waldo Emerson + + HOW TO KNOW HIM + + _By_ + + Samuel McChord Crothers + + _Author of_ + + THE GENTLE READER, THE PARDONER’S WALLET + OLIVER WENDEL HOLMES AND HIS FELLOW BOARDERS + ETC., ETC. + + _WITH PORTRAIT_ + + INDIANAPOLIS + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1921 + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + + _Printed in the United States of America_ + + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOK MANUFACTURERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + + + +INTRODUCTORY + + +The mind of Emerson was a searchlight revealing not itself but the +various objects on which it successively turned. An intense and narrow +beam of light would shoot through the darkness and reveal some object. +Then it would pick up another object which would have its brief moment +of visibility. The landscape was never revealed in any one view. + +The only way to know Emerson is to join him in his intellectual +exercises. In spite of his personal aloofness I know of no one with +whom we can more readily come to a feeling of intellectual intimacy. +He had no pretensions and no reserves. In clear sentences he told us +what from time to time he thought. He made no attempt to connect these +thoughts into a coherent system. For any one else to attempt to do this +would be to misrepresent him. + +In the short chapters which follow I have treated Emerson as a +contemporary rather than as a writer of the last generation. His +thought is as pertinent to the twentieth century as to the nineteenth. +Indeed I think that in many respects we may be nearer to him than were +those who first listened to him. The prejudices which he encountered +have largely died away. The problems over which he was meditating +remain. + +I wish to make grateful acknowledgment to Houghton Mifflin Company for +special permission to make extracts from their authorized and copyright +editions of Emerson’s works. Also to Doctor Edward Emerson for the use +of his edition of his father’s journals. + +S. M. M. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I THE APPROACH TO EMERSON 1 + + II A DISCRIMINATING OPTIMIST 16 + + III THE OPENER OF DOORS 29 + + IV THE PARISH OF YOUNG MEN 40 + + V SPENT THE DAY AT ESSEX JUNCTION 47 + + VI FRIENDSHIP WITHOUT INTIMACY 56 + + VII I HATE THIS SHALLOW AMERICANISM 68 + + VIII THE POET 75 + + IX THE POETRY OF SCIENCE 95 + + X PIETY 108 + + XI THOU SHALT NOT PREACH 116 + + XII THE LURE OF THE WEST 122 + + XIII EMERSON’S ELUSIVE SMILE 133 + + XIV THE QUIET REVOLUTIONIST 142 + + XV MEDITATIONS ON POLITICS 158 + + XVI THE CANDID FRIEND OF ENGLAND 172 + + XVII AMONG HIS BOOKS 181 + + XVIII EMERSON’S HISTORIC SENSE 197 + + XIX PEACE AND WAR 209 + + XX THE FORTUNES OF THE POOR 215 + + XXI THE CUTTING EDGE 223 + + XXII TERMINUS 230 + + + + +EMERSON + +CHAPTER I + +THE APPROACH TO EMERSON + + “_But, critic, spare thy vanity, + Nor show thy pompous parts, + To vex with odious subtlety + The cheerer of men’s hearts._” + + +So Emerson writes of the Persian poet Saadi who “sat in the sun” and +with smiling lips uttered his thoughts to whosoever chose to listen. He +had nothing to prove, nothing to apologize for, nothing to lament. + + “Denounce who will, who will deny, + And pile the hills to scale the sky; + Let theist, atheist, pantheist, + Define and wrangle how they list, + Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,-- + But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer.” + +We are so used to wrangling and defining, to building systems of +thought, and with odious subtlety criticizing other men’s systems, that +we hardly know how to get along without these intellectual exercises. +What is there to say about a literary man or a philosopher who cares +for none of these things? + +To become acquainted with Emerson we must discard any conventional idea +of the literary man or the philosopher. We must not become too much +interested in his works. We must be genuinely interested in the things +he was thinking about, so as to find joy in comparing notes. He was not +a man of letters in the sense of a maker of books, and he was careless +about the articulation of his thought, and so he is the despair of +those who try to “place” him. + +There are those who think they can explain a man of genius by means of +painstaking investigation of the town he lived in, the folks he knew, +the books he read, the party to which he belonged, and the family into +which he was born. A great deal can be explained in this way, in fact +all those things in which he was like the thousands of other persons +who were subjected to similar influences. But what about his genius, +which is the one thing in which he differed from those who were about +him? It happens that it is this difference which is the matter of vital +moment. + +There are indeed great men whose difference from their contemporaries +is in the quantity of their endowment rather than in its essential +quality. They think and feel as does the average man, they share his +opinions and habits of thought, only they have everything in greater +abundance. They are representative of the time in which they lived and +we can not think of them as belonging to any other place or period. +This is perhaps what we mean by a _great_ man. The term is quantitative. + +But there are others whose genius is essentially timeless. They owe +very little to their immediate environment. They might have lived +anywhere or at any time, and the substance and manner of their thinking +would have been very much the same. Ralph Waldo Emerson was of this +order. In one sense he was a typical American, more than that he was +a New Englander, and his thought was colored by the experience of the +passing day. But it was only colored. The texture was not peculiar +to America. That he was born at the beginning of the nineteenth +century, the descendant of a long line of Puritan preachers, that he +was educated at Harvard College, and became for a time the minister +of a Unitarian Church, that he was interested in what was called the +Transcendental Movement, that he traveled about the country delivering +lyceum lectures, that he took a worthy part in all sorts of reform +movements, and that he lived in Concord to a good old age--all these +are interesting facts. If we happen to be interested in Emerson, we +like to know about them. But they do not enable us to know what manner +of man he was, or what gift he may have for us. + +Indeed, if we take such facts too seriously, we may obscure the real +Emerson, for he certainly did not take them very seriously, and was +rather absent-minded in regard to them. It was one of his whimsies +to profess a great contempt for foreign travel. Concord was good +enough for him and he could see all that was most worth seeing without +wandering from the vicinity of the town house. But this was not because +he had any unusual prejudice for a particular locality, but that he had +means of getting away from it that his neighbors did not possess. One +place is as good as another to one whose mind is free of the universe. + +Emerson’s mind was in the most literal sense cosmopolitan; he was +a citizen of the world, as no mere traveler can become. The globe +trotter is lured on by the expectation of coming to foreign parts. +Emerson did not think of any portion of the world as foreign. It was +all of a piece. Wherever he happened to be, he was confronted by the +marvel of the whole which manifested itself in every part. He was +like the citizen in a great metropolis, who leaves to strangers the +transitory joys of sightseeing. He goes about his own business, and +yet he is gladly conscious all the time that he belongs to the mighty +aggregation. + +In dealing with such a person, the biographer is always more or less +of an intruder. To Emerson the inner life was much more important than +the events and circumstances of the outer life. To the inner life as +disclosed by himself, we may go directly. Thus only we know what manner +of man he was. He was describing himself when he wrote: + + “There is an external life, which is educated at school, taught to + read, write, cipher, and trade; taught to grasp all the boy can + get, urging him to put himself forward, to make himself useful and + agreeable in the world, to ride, run, argue, and contend, unfold his + talents, shine, conquer, and possess. + + “But the inner life sits at home, and does not learn to do things, + nor value these feats at all. ’Tis a quiet, wise perception. It loves + truth, because it is itself real; it loves right, it knows nothing + else; but it makes no progress; was as wise in our first memory of + it as now; is just the same now in maturity, and hereafter in age, + as it was in youth. We have grown to manhood and womanhood; we have + powers, connection, children, reputations, professions: this makes + no account of them all. It lives in the great present; it makes the + present great. This tranquil, well-founded, wide-seeing soul is no + express-rider, no attorney, no magistrate: it lies in the sun, and + broods on the world. A person of this temper once said to a man of + much activity, ‘I will pardon you that you do so much, and you me that + I do nothing.’ And Euripides says that ‘Zeus hates busybodies and + those who do too much.’” + +All this is quite foreign to the mind of the typical American. It was +not characteristic of the nineteenth century. It is not easy to explain +why Emerson should have turned up when he did. + +If, however, it is necessary for us to “place” Emerson, and to classify +him, it might be as well to ignore the accident of his birth, and put +him among those with whom his ways of thinking and speaking would have +been most congenial. + +He was a philosopher, not in the modern sense, but in the simpler +ancient sense of a lover of wisdom. He belonged in a way with the men +who in Athens liked to walk about in the gardens discoursing about the +nature of the good, the true, and the beautiful. Perhaps the Greek +dialectic might have wearied his more direct mind. It would have seemed +a too roundabout way of getting at moral truths. + +I rather think that he would have been more at home with less +sophisticated thinkers, let us say with the lovers of wisdom in the +land of Uz, who gathered around Job, in his happier days before Satan +mingled with his affairs. It is in the cool of the evening, and they +gather at the gate, and Job discourses on the pleasant mysteries of +life. And people who had been bearing the heat and burden of the day, +and whose souls were parched, came for refreshment. In their arid +lives, it was wonderful to meet a man who was thinking aloud. “My +speech dropped upon them, and they waited for me as for the rain.” + +Such speech comes in sentences that are easily remembered. In the land +of Uz people do not get their ideas from books, but from the lips of a +man who has the gift of direct address. + +In process of time scribes gather these scattered sentences into +volumes, and we have collections of what the Hebrew scholars call +Wisdom Literature. So we have the Proverbs, The Wisdom of Solomon, and +the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach. They contain the observations and the +meditations of men who had found time for such things. They are enjoyed +by those of kindred temper. + +Emerson’s essays belong to this Wisdom Literature. They are gnomic, +that is to say, they consist of pregnant sentences. Their arrangement +is a matter largely of accident. + +Had he lived in the land of Uz, Emerson would have uttered these +sentences to a little group at the city gate, and trusted to their +memories for the preservation of what was of value. Being an American +in the nineteenth century, he jotted them down in his note-book when +they occurred to him, and then as opportunity offered presented them to +groups of his fellow-citizens, gathered on winter evenings in poorly +ventilated halls. All the way from Massachusetts to Iowa he found his +audience, and gave them freely of his best. Then acting as his own +scribe, he gathered the sentences together into the form familiar to us. + +To get his general point of view, read the ninth chapter of Proverbs: + + “Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars; + she hath killed her beasts; she hath mingled her wine; she hath also + furnished her table. She hath sent forth her maidens: she crieth upon + the highest places of the city.... Come, eat of my bread, and drink of + the wine which I have mingled.” + +It is all very simple and natural. Wisdom is the builder. She builds +according to her own plan, and when the house is furnished, she makes +her feast and sends forth her maidens with the invitation to her table. + +And the thinker, who is he? He is not the architect, he did not plan +the building. Nor is he the high priest ordering the sacrifice. He +does not take himself so solemnly. He is only one of the invited +guests, who has not lost the sense of wondering curiosity. He can +not churlishly sit down to the feast without being introduced to the +hostess. He wanders about among all the marvels, seeking her. For, says +the son of Sirach, “It is the chief point of Wisdom to know whose gift +it is.” + +In the nineteenth century Ralph Waldo Emerson lived a life that was as +simple as that of the antique philosophers. He practised an art which +has been thought to be lost--the art of meditation. The fruit of his +meditations he offered to all those whom it might concern. + +Emerson was a man thinking. There is no Emersonian system of +philosophy, only an Emersonian way of looking at things, and that +is perfectly simple. There is a legal phrase, “without prejudice,” +which is used of parties to a controversy, implying that should the +negotiations fail, nothing that has passed shall be taken advantage +of thereafter. Thus should the defendant offer _without prejudice_ to +pay half the claim, the plaintiff can not consider this offer as an +admission of his having the right to _some_ payment. + +To read the words of Emerson in the spirit in which they were written, +we must remember to take what he says without prejudice. Each sentence +makes its own appeal, and it is for us to determine whether it rings +true or false. But we must not hold him responsible for the inferences +which we may draw. He was not uttering oracles, though the form might +sometimes seem oracular. He aimed to challenge us rather than to secure +docile acceptance of his ideas. He did not attempt at any one time to +state the whole truth. He preferred to state a half truth in such a +manner that we should be ready to supply the other half. Instead of +avoiding extreme opinions, he wished to have them confront each other +in the same mind. + + “This is true, that other is true. But our geometry cannot span the + extreme points and reconcile them. What to do? By obeying each thought + frankly, by harping, or if you will, pounding on each string, we + learn at last its power. By the same obedience to others’ thoughts, we + learn theirs and then comes some reasonable hope of harmonizing them.” + +The method which he recommended and which he followed was in the +highest degree unsystematic. It was “the method of taking up in turn +each of the leading topics which belong to our scheme of human life, +and by stating all that is agreeable to experience on one hand, and +doing the same justice to the opposing facts, the true limitations will +appear. Any excess of emphasis on one part would be corrected and a +just balance made.” + +In other words, Emerson would never assume the cool judicial attitude +in regard to any vital question. He would speak as an advocate of the +side which for the moment seemed to him most important. But he would +always reserve the right to state the other side just as strongly. Not +only did he claim the right to take both sides, but also to change the +subject as often as he liked. He believed that there were certain +general principles which were applicable to all the various professions +and callings. One who was in Milton’s phrase “a skillful considerer of +human things” had a right to express his opinions, for in spite of all +the modern division of labor, life is still made up of a few simple +elements. + +In the following chapters I have made no attempt to harmonize the views +of Emerson. That would only obscure the sharp outlines of each separate +view. One who would know Emerson must not read his word with the +docility of a mere disciple. He must rather take it as a game and match +his wits against a quick antagonist. + +It is the mental attitude which that unconventional sixteenth-century +preacher, Bishop Hugh Latimer, sought to inspire in his congregation. +In his famous Sermon on the Cards, he challenged his congregation to +play a game of cards, which in those days was called “Triumph.” + +Quoth Latimer: “Whereas, ye are wont to celebrate Christmas in playing +at cards, I intend by God’s grace to deal unto you Christ’s cards. The +game we shall play at shall be called the triumph (trump) which if it +be well played, he that dealeth shall win, the players shall likewise +win, and the standers and lookers on shall do the same, inasmuch that +there is no man that is willing to play at this Triumph with these +cards but that they shall all be winners, and no losers. Let therefore +every Christian man and woman play at these cards, that they may have +and obtain the triumph; you must mark also that the triumph must apply +to fetch home with him all the other cards whatsoever suit they be of. +Now then take ye this first card which must appear and be shewed to you +as followeth.” + +In some such way Emerson invites us to join in his favorite recreation. +It is the free play of thought in which “he that dealeth shall win, the +players shall likewise win and the standers and lookers on shall do the +same.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DISCRIMINATING OPTIMIST + + “_I am a willow of the wilderness, + Loving the wind that bent me._” + + +One of the most familiar terms of reproach in these days is +“Victorian.” It is used by clever literary persons who have rebelled +against the standards of their immediate predecessors. It implies a +certain smugness and self-satisfaction which is very irritating to +persons who are conscious of the cruel realities of this unfinished +world. The Victorians are supposed to have been incorrigible +optimists who mistook the Fool’s Paradise in which they lived for +the final resting place of humanity. They were worshipers of the +respectabilities, and were content with the cant of liberalism as their +fathers had been content with the cant of Toryism. + +To-day, however, we are taught that it is our duty to face the grimmest +realities, and not to flinch when we see something that is ugly and +threatening. We must see how the other half lives, and we must free +ourselves from amiable delusions. + +In turning from the work of our painfully sincere realists to Emerson, +the first impression is that we are going back to that discredited +state of mind, the early Victorian optimism. For Emerson faces the +existing world with a smiling face. He takes for granted that there is +a friendliness in its laws, and that the ultimate reality is not to be +feared. He has a frank predilection for beauty and does not feel it his +duty to feed his imagination on what is ugly and unwholesome. He is +always glad to be alive, and glad to find so many other creatures alive +at the same time. Sometimes he has a too debonair way of making light +of the evils that are encountered by earnest people. + +But those who look upon the optimism of Emerson as a part of the +conventionalism of his time are, I think, superficial in their +judgments. In the first place, he was not a Victorian, but an +American, who was not under the spell of the good queen and her +court. No one was less disposed to imitate the literary conventions +then dominant in England. He was no more a Victorian than was Abraham +Lincoln. There was nothing smug in his optimism. He was not an +apologist for the existing state of things, nor interested in proving +that this is the best of all possible worlds. He did not try to make +himself agreeable by calling evil good. He recognized the existence of +an enormous number of bad and cruel things. “Nature as we know her is +no saint.” + +He taught that nature does not coddle us, nor provide ready-made houses +or clothes. She leaves us to make these things for ourselves. And the +process of experiment is never an easy one. It is a long and tedious +way by which we travel toward truth. Nature does not tell us what is +good for us; to discover this is part of our experience. + + “I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the + Universe and is disappointed, and I found that I began at the other + extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate + blessings.” + +So far from denying or seeking to hide the darker and more painful +aspects of the world, he admitted them and placed them where they +belong, _at the beginning_. They belong to the realm of chaos and night. + +But the outstanding fact is that there has been a gradual emergence +from chaos. The existence of man as a reasoning creature becomes more +wonderful as we think of the odds against it. No good thing can be had +without effort. + +But the real question is, “Is the effort worth while?” You may say +that it is not. You do not know whether or not you shall succeed, and +therefore you will not try. + +Emerson declares that the effort is most gloriously worth while. It +reveals the joy of creation. + + “A man is a golden impossibility. Power keeps quite another road + than the turnpike of choice and will, namely, the subterranean and + invisible tunnels and channels of life. Life is a series of surprises + and would not be worth taking and keeping if it were not.... Nature + hates calculators, her methods are saltatory and impulsive.... The + mind goes antagonizing on, and never prospers but by fits. We thrive + on casualties.... Every man is an impossibility till he is born, + everything is impossible till we see it a success.” + +At this point it would be well to lay down Emerson’s essay on +Experience and do a little meditating on the words, “the mind goes +antagonizing on.” + +Here is a philosophy that goes behind the old dispute between the +optimist and the pessimist. The ordinary optimist tries to prove +that there is no real antagonism between the facts of nature and the +ideals of the human soul. Everything is exquisitely fitted to produce +happiness. The pessimist denies this and insists on the flagrant +opposition between what is and what ought to be. He arranges a deadly +parallel between the world of the ideals and the world of hard reality. + +Emerson answers that there is an antagonism. The human spirit must +not be bullied by that which lies beneath it. It must assert its +sovereignty, and in its resistance it makes the discovery of its power. +It goes “antagonizing on.” That is the way of the conqueror. + + “The essence of tragedy does not seem to me to lie in any list of + particular evils. After we have enumerated famine, fever, inaptitude, + mutilation, rack, madness and loss of friends, we have not yet + included the proper tragic element, which is Terror, and which does + not respect definite evils but indefinite; an ominous spirit which + haunts the afternoon and night, idleness and solitude.” + +A low haggard spirit sits by our side, “casting the fashion of +uncertain evils, a sinister presentiment, a power of the imagination to +disclose things orderly and cheerful and show them in startling array. +Hark, what sounds on the night wind? the cry of murder in that friendly +house, see those marks of stamping feet, of hidden riot. The whisper +overhead, the detected glance, the glare of malignity, ungrounded +fears, suspicions, half knowledge and mistakes, darken the brow and +chill the heart of man. And accordingly it is natures not clear, nor +of quick and steady perceptions, but imperfect characters from which +something is hidden that all others see, that suffer most from these +causes. In those persons who move the profoundest pity, tragedy seems +to consist in temperament, not in events. There are people who have +an appetite for grief; pleasure is not strong enough, and they crave +pain, Mithridatic stomachs which must be fed on poisoned bread, natures +so downed that no prosperity can soothe their ragged and dishevelled +desolation. They mishear and misbelieve, they suspect and dread. They +handle every nettle, and tread on every snake in the meadow.” + +It is here that Emerson made his stand. It is not necessary for us to +apologize for facts or to attempt to vindicate Eternal Providence. +Events come and we must face them. But the Terror we must not yield +to, this we can overcome. There is a health of the spirit which may be +cultivated and which makes us immune to evil influences. + +The optimism of Emerson was not to be expressed in the phrase, “looking +at the bright side of things.” That is the lazy man’s optimism. There +is a homelier phrase, “making the best of it.” Let the circumstances +be what they may, the brave man accepts them resolved to make the best +of them. And the surprise is that when he puts all his strength into +the task, the result is something better than he had planned. Even when +worst has come to worst, the hero turns upon the hostile powers and +finds the Best which he has worshiped afar now realized in his own will. + + “Trembler, do not whine and chide, + Art thou not also real? + Why shouldst thou stoop to poor excuse; + Turn on the accuser roundly, say, + ‘Here am I, here will I abide + Forever to myself soothfast. + Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!’ + Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast.” + +The most complete expression of Emerson’s discriminating optimism +can be found in his essay on Fate. Here he states the argument of +the pessimist in the strongest terms. There are forces at work which +bring pain and loss. There are laws which we can not control. There +are tragedies which are inevitable. But the good man confronts the +evil fate. Emerson believed that the result of that conflict was the +creation of a higher good than had before been perceived. The struggle +with Fate produced power. + + “Thus we trace Fate, in matter, mind, and morals--in race, in + retardations of strata, and in thought and character as well. It is + everywhere bound or limitation. But Fate has its lord; limitation its + limits; is different seen from above and from below; from within and + from without. For, though Fate is immense, so is power, which is the + other fact in the dual world, immense. If Fate follows and limits + power, power attends and antagonizes Fate. We must respect Fate as + natural history, but there is more than natural history. For who and + what is this criticism that pries into the matter? Man is not order + of nature, sack and sack, belly and members, link in a chain, nor any + ignominious baggage, but a stupendous antagonism, a dragging together + of the poles of the universe. He betrays his relation to what is below + him--thick-skulled, small-brained, fishy, quadrumanous--quadruped + ill-disguised, hardly escaped into biped, and has paid for the new + powers by loss of some of the old ones. But the lightning which + explodes and fashions planets, maker of planet and suns, is in him. + On one side, elemental order, sandstone and granite, rock-ledges, + peat-bog, forest, sea and shore; and, on the other part, thought, the + spirit which composes and decomposes nature--here they are, side by + side, God and devil, mind and matter, king and conspirator, belt and + spasm, riding peacefully together in the eye and brain of every man. + + “Nor can he blink the free-will. To hazard the contradiction--freedom + is necessary. If you please to plant yourself on the side of Fate, + and say, Fate is all; then we say, a part of Fate is the freedom of + man. For ever wells up the impulse of choosing and acting in the soul. + Intellect annuls Fate. So far as a man thinks, he is free. And though + nothing is more disgusting than the crowing about liberty by slaves, + as most men are, and the flippant mistaking for freedom of some paper + preamble like a ‘Declaration of Independence,’ or the statute right + to vote, by those who have never dared to think or to act, yet it is + wholesome to man to look not at Fate, but the other way: the practical + view is the other. His sound relation to these facts is to use and + command, not to cringe to them. ‘Look not on Nature, for her name is + fatal,’ said the oracle. The too much contemplation of these limits + induces meanness. They who talk much of destiny, their birth-star, + etc., are in a lower dangerous plane, and invite the evils they fear. + + “I cited the instinctive and heroic races as proud believers in + Destiny. They conspire with it; a loving resignation is with the + event. But the dogma makes a different impression, when it is held by + the weak and lazy. ’Tis weak and vicious people who cast the blame + on Fate. The right use of Fate is to bring up our conduct to the + loftiness of nature. Rude and invincible except by themselves are + the elements. So let man be. Let him empty his breast of his windy + conceits, and show his lordship by manners and deeds on the scale of + nature. Let him hold his purpose as with the tug of gravitation. No + power, no persuasion, no bribe, shall make him give up his point. + A man ought to compare advantageously with a river, an oak, or a + mountain. He shall have not less the flow, the expansion, and the + resistance of these. + + “’Tis the best use of Fate to teach a fatal courage. Go face the fire + at sea, or the cholera in your friend’s house, or the burglar in your + own, or what danger lies in the way of duty, knowing you are guarded + by the cherubim of Destiny. If you believe in Fate to your harm, + believe it, at least, for your good. + + “For, if Fate is so prevailing, man also is part of it, and can + confront Fate with Fate.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE OPENER OF DOORS + + “_Be an opener of doors for such as come after thee and do not try to + make the Universe a blind alley._”--EMERSON’S JOURNAL (1841). + + +There are certain minds which have exercised a vast influence over +the thought of the world, as constructors of intellectual systems. +Their ambition has been to reduce all things to a formula. They become +masters of existing knowledge and arrange it in orderly fashion. +Thus Thomas Aquinas summed up the thought of the middle ages in a +solid theology to be received by all who came after him. John Calvin, +with lawyer-like logic, did the same thing for sixteenth-century +Protestantism. Herbert Spencer, with prodigious industry, gathered +an immense number of facts and attempted to bring them all into an +agreement with his own scientific formula. + +Up to a certain point the system-maker is a helper to all those who +would live a reasonable intellectual life. He shows us where to put our +facts and to a certain degree how to use them. The difficulty comes +when new facts are discovered which do not fit into the system, or when +in the course of our intellectual development we come upon a fresh +point of view. + +Then the system becomes a blind alley. We are led into it by a +perfectly logical process, but there is no logical way out of it. The +mind goes round and round and is conscious of the futility of its own +effort. The universe is narrowed to the dimensions of a rigid creed. +The system now shuts out more of reality than it explains. + +It is when we become conscious of the dangers of making the universe a +blind alley and becoming entrapped in rigid forms that we appreciate +the function of philosophers like William James and Bergson. They are +emancipators of the intellect. In their keen criticism of dogmatic +systems they show us a way out. Reality, they assure us, is something +vaster than any definition of it. + +Emerson belonged to this little company of emancipators, and he went +about his business in a very simple and yet effective way. He attacked +the assumption that what is usually called consistency is a virtue. No +saying of his is more often quoted, and more generally misunderstood: + + “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by + little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a + great soul has 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 everything you said to-day.” + +That may be made to seem like a plea for careless and irresponsible +ways of thinking and speaking. What standard are we to have by which +to test our mental processes? I have heard the words quoted as if they +offered an excuse for intellectual lawlessness. + +We approach Emerson’s serious meaning only when we emphasize the +adjective. It is a _foolish_ consistency which is the hobgoblin of +little minds. The fundamental question is “_consistency with what?_” +The little mind is thinking not of reality but of its own previous +utterances. When an opinion is to be expressed, it says, “This must be +made consistent with what I said yesterday. Let me see! What did I say +yesterday?” Then, with solemn conscientiousness, yesterday’s statement +is repeated and there is felt the satisfaction which comes with duty +done. + +But what if to-day’s fact is really different from that of yesterday, +and can not be expressed accurately by the same phrase? This +possibility the little mind does not entertain. It will not allow +itself to be contradicted, and so the process goes on which St. Paul +describes, “they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing +themselves among themselves, are not wise.” + +Emerson’s real plea is for consistency. But we must be consistent not +with a form of words which we have adopted, but with a living reality +which we encounter day by day. + +What have you seen to-day? What have you done? What new aspect of the +universe has become clear to you? What are the facts revealed in your +present consciousness? These are the questions that are asked of a +person who is using his mind. And his answers are valuable only as they +are simple and direct. + +In a court of justice this simplicity is required. The witness who +is trying to make his answers consistent with one another and with a +preconceived theory is sure to come to grief. The cross-questioner will +discover flaws in the evidence. The only safe course is to tell the +facts as they occurred. + +Most of our intellectual confusion comes from the attempts to arrange +our opinions according to an artificial order. The catechism is +arranged in advance of experience. The questions follow one another in +logical order, and each question has its appropriate answer. It is all +very satisfactory until the answers are sharply challenged. How do we +happen to know so much? How are we able to answer so glibly? + +To Emerson the chief value of a catechism lay in the questions, not in +the answers. That the deepest and most persistent questions have no +satisfactory answers did not depress him. It only proved that both the +mind that asks and the universe which delays the answer are greater +than we thought. Their meaning can not be expressed in any form of +words. He hears the Sphinx saying to the Soul: + + “Thou art the unanswered question; + Couldst see thy proper eye, + Alway it asketh, asketh; + And each answer is a lie. + So take thy quest through nature, + It through thousand natures ply; + Ask on, thou clothed eternity; + Time is the false reply.” + +The joy of the follower of Truth and Beauty is wonderfully expressed +in the little poem called “Forerunners.” We are out-of-doors, and +the air is bracing, and the distant hills are alluring. What does it +matter that we do not catch up with our “happy guides”? It is enough +that we are free to follow. Let others sing of the satisfactions of +achievement. Emerson is satisfied with a life that is a continual quest. + + “Long I followed happy guides, + I could never reach their sides; + Their step is forth, and, ere the day + Breaks up their leaguer, and away. + Keen my sense, my heart was young, + Right good-will my sinews strung, + But no speed of mine avails + To hunt upon their shining trails. + On and away, their hasting feet + Make the morning proud and sweet; + Flowers they strew--I catch the scent; + Or tone of silver instrument + Leaves on the wind melodious trace; + Yet I could never see their face. + On eastern hills I see their smokes, + Mixed with mist by distant lochs. + I met many travellers + Who the road had surely kept; + They saw not my fine revellers,-- + These had crossed them while they slept. + Some had heard their fair report, + In the country or the court. + Fleetest couriers alive + Never yet could once arrive, + As they went or they returned, + At the house where these sojourned. + Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, + Though they are not overtaken; + In sleep their jubilant troop is near,-- + I tuneful voices overhear; + It may be in wood or waste,-- + At unawares ’tis come and past. + Their near camp my spirit knows + By signs gracious as rainbows. + I thenceforward, and long after, + Listen for their harp-like laughter, + And carry in my heart, for days, + Peace that hallows rudest ways.” + +It is not merely the poetic imagination which opens the doors into an +enchanted country where one may wander endlessly. The sober reason has +also an emancipatory power. There are realities which lie beyond the +limits which the dogmatist defines. They may not be logically justified +but they are nevertheless a part of the order of the universe. When we +cease to dogmatize we become conscious of an order more wonderful than +that which we had imagined possible. Things exist side by side which +we had supposed to be absolutely incompatible. We can not logically +reconcile them, but there they are. + + “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 encyclopedia 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.” + +Along with Emerson’s insistence on an absolute freedom in thinking +we must remember his emphasis on the principle of identity which he +discovers everywhere. The universe, he continually tells us is not a +blind alley, neither is it a mere welter of conflicting forces. It is +marvelously complicated, but touch it at any point and you will find +it consistent with itself. Could we understand one part of it we would +have the key to all mysteries. + + “The universe is represented in every one of its particles. Everything + in nature contains all the powers of nature. Everything 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.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PARISH OF YOUNG MEN + + “_My parish is young men inquiring their way._” + + +Emerson’s parish did not include all young men. Indeed he was very ill +at ease with the typical “young person.” And there are many anecdotes +which indicate that the young person shared the embarrassment. The +gregariousness of youth with its tumultuous mass movements were +rather appalling to one of his temperament. Nor was he fitted for the +difficult rôle of spiritual adviser. + +Emerson’s widely scattered parish was made up of another kind of young +men. They were young men who were not seeking to find out _his_ way, +but their own. He encouraged them in it. That made them his debtors for +life. + +These parishioners of his could not possibly be gathered into one +congregation. They formed no cult or party. Each was so absorbed +in his own special endeavor that he had little time to make the +acquaintance of his fellow parishioner, but each in the formative +period of his life had received the stimulus he most needed. He had +been bewildered by the conflicting counsels of his elders. Each +counsellor had said, “Be like me.” Then one clear voice had suggested, +“Why not be yourself?” + +The suggestion was so unexpected and yet so reasonable that it was +acted upon. The young man found himself, which is the one discovery +that counts. + +America prides itself on being the land of the free. We have had many +political emancipators, but the roll of intellectual emancipators +is short. Having dethroned kings, we live under the fear of public +opinion. The aggregate mind tyrannizes over the individual intellect. +There is a deadly average which it is not considered safe for one to +pass. + +To his parish of young men Emerson was always preaching that the world +is in dire need of men with fresh insight who are not satisfied with +things as they are. The “average man” should not be content with the +average attainment. He has within him powers which rightly used could +lift him far above his present condition. He is, and of right ought +to be, a free and independent soul. A decent respect for the opinion +of the world demands that he should declare his independence in +unmistakable terms. + + “What strikes us in the fine genius is that which belongs of right to + every one. A man should know himself for a necessary actor. A link + was wanting between two craving parts of nature, and he was hurled + into being as the bridge over that yawning need, the mediator betwixt + two else unmarriageable facts. His two parents held each of one of + the wants, and the union of foreign constitutions in him enables + him to do gladly and gracefully what the assembled human race could + not have sufficed to do. He knows his materials; he applies himself + to his work; he can not read, or think, or look, but he unites the + hitherto separated strands--into a perfect cord. The thoughts he + delights to utter are the reason of his incarnation. Is it for him to + account himself cheap and superfluous, or to linger by the wayside + for opportunities? Did he not come into being because something must + be done which he and no other is and does? If only he _sees_, the + world will be visible enough. He need not study where to stand, nor + to put things in favorable lights; in him is the light, from him all + things are illuminated to their centre. What patron shall he ask for + employment and reward? Hereto was he born, to deliver the thought of + his heart from the universe to the universe, to do an office which + nature could not forego, nor he be discharged from rendering, and then + immerge again into the holy silence and eternity out of which as a + man he arose. God is rich, and many more men than one he harbours in + his bosom, biding their time and the needs and the beauty of all. Is + not this the theory of every man’s genius or faculty? Why then goest + thou as some Boswell or listening worshipper to this saint or to that? + That is the only lese-majesty. Here art thou with whom so long the + universe travailed in labor; darest thou think meanly of thyself whom + the stalwart Fate brought forth to unite his ragged sides, to shoot + the gulf, to reconcile the irreconcilable?” + +As for the chill wisdom of age with its timid counsels, let the +young man defy it. Length of days does not bring wisdom unless it is +accompanied by a power of spiritual rejuvenation, and then it becomes +the wisdom of perpetual youthfulness. + + “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.” + +The reader will observe that Emerson in the midst of his praise of +the spirit of youth gives a sly dig at one of the foibles of his +parishioners. There is a quality of bumptiousness which is often found +in early life. Emerson treats it as a kind of premature senility. +“Whilst we converse with what is above us we do not grow old.” +Conversely the person who cannot look up religiously to something above +his present attainments had aged rapidly. A person may be a dotard +while yet in the twenties. This was a sobering thought not unfrequently +presented to the parish of young men. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SPENT THE DAY AT ESSEX JUNCTION + + “_August 16, 1868. Came home last night from Vermont with Ellen. + Stopped at Middlebury on the 11th, Tuesday, and read my discourse on + Greatness, and the good work and influence of heroic scholars. On + Wednesday spent the day at Essex Junction, and traversed the banks and + much of the bed of the Winooski river, much admiring the falls, and + the noble mountain peaks of Mansfield and Camel’s Hump (which there + appears to be the highest), and the view of the Adirondacks across the + lake._” + + +One intent on becoming intimate with Emerson might well postpone +reading the Oversoul, till he had meditated on the text, “Spent the +Day at Essex Junction.” Perhaps no junction point in all New England +has been the innocent cause of more vituperation than Essex Junction. +Here, for more than a generation, impatient people have alighted and +waited for trains which were not arranged for their convenience. To the +commercial traveler, Essex Junction represents a sheer waste of time. +To the summer tourist it means a postponement of enjoyment. It is a +place on the way to somewhere else. + +But to Emerson, Essex Junction was not conceived of as a point of +departure until the hour came when he must actually depart. This was +not till evening. In the meantime, he was living in Essex Junction +rather than merely passing through it. There was no hurry, so that he +had ample time to enjoy the banks of the Winooski river and the view of +the distant mountains. + +Emerson was on the way to Mount Mansfield, at which he arrived in +due time. The next morning at the Mountain Hotel “a man went through +the house ringing a loud bell and shouting ‘Sunrise,’ and everybody +dressed in haste and went down to the piazza.” Emerson joined the eager +procession and had his look with the rest of them. “After many sharp +looks at the heavens and earth, we descended to breakfast. I found in +this company many agreeable people.” + +In this recital you have a glimpse of his philosophy of life. Essex +Junction, Mount Mansfield and the troop of fellow-boarders who +snatched a hasty sunrise on the way to breakfast were not all alike. +In fact, they were quite different. But they were all equally real. +The contemplation of them absorbed successive moments of his conscious +life. Each for a little while occupied the foreground of his mind and +became the representative of the cosmos. Each in its place and in its +time was interesting. When it came to the question which was the most +interesting, he would let them fight it out among themselves. + +This was the philosophy of the Mountain and the Squirrel. + + “I am not so large as you, + You are not so small as I + And not half so spry.” + +That talents differ is the fact on which we must agree before there +can be any toleration or appreciation. Most of us have a bad habit of +taking a personal preference and elevating it into a universal standard +of value. Each new object is weighed in the balance and found wanting. +We say, this is not that, and therefore it is not worth our attention. +The word “discrimination” takes on a hostile meaning. We are likely +to say “discriminate _against_.” The word “criticize” has also a +suggestion of unfriendliness, for it is concerned with the perception +of differences. + +Emerson’s habitual point of view was that of appreciative +discrimination. This is not that, of course not; it is quite +different--that is what makes it interesting. Even where the tubs look +alike, it is pleasant to consider that each stands on its own bottom. + +What is the most important place in all the world? For you it is the +place where you actually are at this moment. This is the only point +from which at this particular time the universe is visible to you. If +you are truly alive, you do not need a man with a bell to summon you to +the sunrise. The day has its clear call. + + “The inevitable morning + Finds them who in cellars be + And be sure that all-loving Nature + Will smile in a factory. + Yon ridge of purple landscape, + Yon sky beneath the walls, + Hold all the hidden wonders + In their scanty intervals.” + +There is a curious restlessness which is often mistaken for idealism. +Not finding satisfaction in our real environment, we are filled with +the desire to be somewhere else. When this restlessness becomes +chronic, there is “that driven feeling” which transforms the pursuit +of happiness into a hurried flight from unhappiness. Even our holidays +become nerve-destroying tasks, as with jaded minds we are carried about +to the places where we wait for sensations that do not come. And with +our eyes on our watches, we know that we must hurry if we are not to +miss the next sight that we have paid for. + +Palestine was not a tourist country in the days when the author of +Ecclesiastes wrote of the various vanities he had seen under the sun; +else he might have added a lamentation over the futility of an empty +mind going about in search of culture. This is a vanity I have seen. I +have seen a rich, foolish man who came to a city strange and old, and +that had a great history. Yet did he not seek to know what that history +was, nor did he save an hour for quiet meditation on what he saw. He +spent much gold to come to the place where the city was, and when he +was there he worried over the delay in getting away. And that foolish +rich man remembered nothing of the city except a dinner which was not +so good as he might have had at home. + +Because he found so much to interest him at home Emerson takes a +whimsical pleasure in speaking against foreign travel as a means of +culture. But he evidently had in mind the excessive value that was in +his day put upon Europe and its traditions. + +His disparagement of travel did not arise from any incuriosity. He +had an eager desire to see all the world. But he was like a small boy +who, having learned that the procession is to pass by his own house, +takes his position on his own door step. Why should he go away when by +staying at home he is sure to see the show? + + “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.” + +There are times when the medium at a seance excuses herself for her +inability to put the sitter in communication with departed spirits. She +does not know what is the matter, but “the conditions are not right.” + +Every traveler has experienced a similar difficulty. He has spent time +and money to go to a famous spot; his body has been transported but not +his soul. There are inhibitions that prevent imaginative communion with +the mighty past. + +Emerson preferred to be in Essex Junction when the spiritual conditions +were right rather than in Rome when his mind was not properly +functioning. Essex Junction is a wonderful place if one happens to be +in the mood for seeing it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FRIENDSHIP WITHOUT INTIMACY + + “_There is a strange face in the Freshman class whom I should like to + know very much. He has a great deal of character in his features and + should be a fast friend or a bitter enemy. His name is ----. I shall + endeavor to become better acquainted with him and wish, if possible, + to recall at a future period the singular sensations which his + presence produced in me_.”--JOURNAL, 1820. + + +Emerson was an upper classman, albeit only seventeen years of age, +when he wrote thus of Martin Gay of Hingham, afterward a distinguished +analytical chemist living in Boston. Emerson’s son, commenting on +this passage, says that there is no evidence that his father, either +in college or afterward, ever made any advances toward further +acquaintance. It does not appear that he ever really knew him, yet +he was always interested to hear of him, and was grieved at his +untimely death in 1850. The two men were entirely different in their +temperaments and interests, Gay being known by his classmates as “cool +Gay.” + +This capacity for shy admirations for his opposites, and for friendly +interests in people with whom he would find it difficult to keep up a +conversation, was characteristic of Emerson. He was sometimes painfully +conscious of it as a barrier which prevented him from really “getting +at” people whom he wished to know. At other times he defended the +attitude that was natural to him, and so made a virtue of his necessity. + +To most persons, Emerson’s essay on Friendship is unsatisfactory as an +exposition of the subject, though it is very revealing of the author’s +state of mind. “Friendship,” says Emerson, “like the immortality of the +soul, is too good to be believed.” And his account of friendship has +a fine aloofness that befits the love for a disembodied spirit rather +than a warm attachment to an imperfect creature of flesh and blood. + +One of the conditions that Emerson would make in a treaty of friendship +would be that neither party should trespass on the personality of +others. It was friendship by “absent treatment.” + + “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, and 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. + + “To my friend I write a letter, and from him I receive a letter. That + seems to you little. It suffices me. + + “You shall not come nearer to a man by getting into his house. We see + the noble afar off, why should we intrude?” + +In all this we feel that Emerson was riding his high horse. It is a shy +man’s way of comforting himself for something that he unfortunately +lacks, but which he would give anything to possess. He was, to use +Paul’s phrase, glorying in his infirmities. That which he was praising +was not friendship but sublimated hero-worship, which is quite a +different thing. + +In the privacy of his note-books he treats his infirmity in quite a +different spirit. He laments the fact that he was not a good mixer. +Like so many New Englanders, it was difficult for him to establish +personal relations. + +At the age of twenty, when looking forward to the ministry, he makes +this self-criticism: + +“Every comparison of myself with my mates that six or seven, perhaps +sixteen or seventeen, years have made has convinced me that there +exists a signal defect of character which neutralizes in great part +the just influence my talents ought to have.” He expresses it as the +“absence of common sympathies.” By this he seems to mean the absence of +the material for “small talk.” “Its bitter fruits are a sore uneasiness +in the company of most men and women, a frigid fear of offending and +jealousy of disrespect, an inability to lead and an unwillingness to +follow the current conversation.... In my frequent humiliation I am +compelled to remember the poor boy who cried, ‘I told you, father, +they would find me out.’” He sums up his youthful confession, “What is +called a warm heart, I have it not.” + +When he was sixty, he was conscious of the same limitation. He jotted +down in his note-book: “Barriers of man impassable. They who should be +friends cannot pass into each other. Friends are fictitious, founded on +some momentary experience. But what we want is consecutiveness.” + +All this is not evidence of lack of a warm heart. It was rather a +lack of an easy way of expressing what he felt. The chill was not +in himself, but in the atmosphere that was about him. But there was +evidently a personal experience behind this generalization about +society. + + “Society, like wealth, is good for those who understand it. It is a + foolish waste of time for those who do not. It seems impossible for + any one to expand in a crowd to his natural dimensions. All character + seems to fade away from all the accomplices. Every woman seems + suffering for a chair, and you accuse yourself and commiserate those + you talk to.” + +There is something delightfully amusing in Emerson’s analysis of his +own failure as a conversationalist. + + “It seemed, as I mused in the streets of Boston on the unpropitious + effect of the town on my humor, that there needs a certain + deliberation and tenacity in the entertainment of a thought--a certain + longanimity to make that confidence and stability which can meet + the demands others make on us. I am too quick-eyed and unstable. My + thoughts are too short, as they say my sentences are. I step along + from stone to stone over the Lethe which gurgles around my path, but + the odds are that my companion encounters me just as I leave one + stone, and before my foot has well reached the other, and down I + tumble into Lethe water. But the man of long wind who receives his + thought with a certain phlegmatic entertainment, and unites himself + to it for the time, as a sailor to a boat, has a better principle of + poise and is not easily moved from the perpendicular.” + +With the remarkable group of men who made Concord famous, Emerson was +on terms of familiar friendship. For Bronson Alcott he cherished an +admiration which seems extravagant. He loved to walk and talk with +the shy poet, Ellery Channing. Thoreau was for two years an inmate of +Emerson’s house, and the two men worked in the garden together. In +Boston Emerson was a member of the Saturday Club, where he continually +met Longfellow, Holmes, Agassiz and the rest. + +Yet he was not a man to shine in such society. His mind was +contemplative, rather than conversational. He did not care to “hold his +own” in a controversy. Why should he? “Emerson was a good citizen and +a good neighbor with his neighbors, always went to town meeting and +listened intently to the strong spirits who ruled the discussions, +without taking any part in them himself.” + +The most notable of his friendships was with Thomas Carlyle. The +correspondence between them continued for many years, and there were +many expressions of esteem. The friendship was a real one, but the fact +that the broad Atlantic lay between them was a great aid to their good +fellowship. For though the two men liked each other, they did not like +the same things. + +Carlyle threatened to visit America, and we may be sure that he would +not have enjoyed the visit. Emerson’s cheery faith in the common man +seemed to the testy Scotchman a bit of sentimentalism. They both +believed in hero-worship, but they did not worship the same heroes. New +England Transcendentalism did not agree with Carlyle’s temper. + +Emerson sent a copy of the _Dial_ to his friend. Carlyle writes, +“The Dial No. 1 came duly. Of course I read it with interest; it is +the utterance of what is youngest in your land, pure, etherial as +the voices of the morning! And yet--you know me--for me it is _too_ +etherial, speculative, theoretic; all theory becomes more and more +confessedly inadequate, untrue, unsatisfactory, almost a kind of +mocking to me.” + +“Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” And these tokens of friendship +were seldom absent from the letters that passed between the two. +Carlyle writes of the impression Emerson’s essays made upon him: + + “It is a _sermon_ to me as all your deliberate utterances are; a + real _word_ which I feel to be such--alas, almost or altogether the + one such, in a world all full of jargons, hearsays, echoes and vain + noises which cannot pass with me for _words_. This is a praise far + beyond any ‘literary’ one; literary praises are not worth repeating in + comparison. For the rest I have to object still (what you will call + objecting to the Law of Nature) that we find you a speaker indeed, + but as it were a _soliloquizer_ on the eternal mountain tops only, in + vast solitudes where men and their affairs lie all hushed in a dim + remoteness; and only the _man_ and the stars are visible, whom so + fine a fellow seems he, we could perpetually punch into and say, ‘Why + won’t you come and help us then? We have terrible need of one man like + you down among us! It is cold and vacant up there; nothing paintable + but rainbows and emotions; come down and you shall do life pictures, + passions, facts--which transcend all thought, and leave it stuttering + and stammering!’ To which he answers that he won’t, can’t and doesn’t + want to (as the cockneys have it): so I leave him and say, ‘You + Western Gymnosophist! Well, we can afford one man for that, too.’” + +This is all very well for a friendship carried on by correspondence. +Carlyle thinks of himself as a man who is dealing with concrete +realities, while Emerson is dealing in remote abstractions. + +But had they lived in the same town with opportunity to discuss the +practical questions of politics and social welfare, they would have +come into collision. The fact was that Emerson was as much interested +in concrete realities as Carlyle, but he came to different conclusions +in regard to them. Carlyle believed in government by strong men, like +Frederick the Great and Cromwell. Democracy was an abomination to him. +A statesman like Lincoln, who thought of himself as an interpreter of +the popular will, was altogether outside his sympathy. Liberalism of +the modern sort seemed to him utter weakness and muddleheadedness. + +Emerson, though he preferred to write about principles rather than +their immediate applications, was never in doubt as to which side he +was on. The principles which he preached were the ones which were being +applied by the democratic reformers of his own day. He believed in the +movements at which Carlyle scoffed. Answering his friend’s criticism, +he says: + + “What you say now and heretofore respecting the remoteness of my + writing and thinking from real life, though I hear substantially the + same criticism made by my countrymen, I do not know what it means.” + +Indeed, Emerson’s idea of real life differed so profoundly from +Carlyle’s that their minds seldom met. To him the laws of the universe +were not only the great realities, but the most intimate realities. +Every person and every action illustrated them. He believed in the +principles of democracy which Carlyle scorned. These fundamental +differences would have been accentuated in daily intercourse. The visit +of the Scotchman to New England never took place, and it was well that +it did not; “for,” says Emerson, “the higher the style we demand of +friendship the less easy to establish it in flesh and blood.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +I HATE THIS SHALLOW AMERICANISM + + “_I hate this shallow Americanism which hopes to get rich by credits, + to get knowledge by raps on midnight tables, to learn the economy + of mind by phrenology, or skill without study, or mastery without + apprenticeship, or sale of goods through pretending they will sell, or + power through making believe you are powerful. They think they have + got it, but they have got something else._” + + +A contemporary of Emerson was Judge Haliburton of Nova Scotia, the +creator of Sam Slick. Mr. Slick of Slickville, Connecticut, was a +typical Yankee as seen by neighbors across the northern border. He +was shrewd, enterprising, inquisitive, good-humored, and in his way +religious. He was an ardent patriot, with his eye on the main chance. +He was good at a bargain, and still better at an argument in defense +of his rectitude in the transaction. He was no hypocrite, for he saw +no reason to pretend to be something which he was not. He was simply +a plain American citizen and he didn’t care who knew it. There were +thousands in Connecticut just as good as he was. He felt it a privilege +to represent the Great Republic. + +The blatant Americanism of Sam Slick must be compared with the solid +English complacency of Mr. Podsnap. Both were caricatures of national +failings which were easily recognizable. Emerson was enough of an +American to understand Sam Slick and to laugh with him as well as to +laugh at him, but he recognized that this shallow Americanism had its +dangers. + +The very ease with which the American could make a living made +him overestimate his own powers. He took the gifts of nature in a +new continent for rewards for his own merit. Bold as he was and +self-assertive in little things, he lacked in any standard by which to +judge himself. He was gregarious in his mental habits, and curiously +averse to strenuous intellectual effort. + +“The timidity of our public opinion is our disease, or shall I say +_the publicness_ of our opinion, the absence of private opinion. Good +nature is plentiful but we want justice with heart of steel to fight +down the proud.” America has not produced a sufficient number of men +who will instinctively throw themselves “on the side of weakness, of +youth, of hope; on the liberal, on the expansive side, never on the +defensive, the conserving, the timorous, the lock-and-bolt system.” + + “I find no expression in our State papers or legislative debate in + our lyceums or churches, especially in our newspapers, of a high + national feeling, no lofty counsels that rightfully stir the blood. + I speak of those organs which can be presumed to speak a popular + sense. They recommend conventional virtues, whatever will earn and + preserve property; always the capitalist, the college, the church, the + hospital, the theater, the hotel, the road, the ship, the capitalist, + whatever goes to secure, adorn, enlarge these is good; whatever + jeopardizes any of these is damnable.” + +This description of a familiar kind of Americanism in 1844 is easily +recognizable in 1920. The shallow reformers are equally familiar. + + “Many a reformer perishes in the removal of rubbish, and that makes + the offensiveness of this class. They are partial, they are not equal + to the work they pretend. They lose their way in the assault on the + kingdom of darkness; they expend all their energy on some accidental + evil, and lose their sanity and power of benefit. It is of little + moment that one or two or twenty errors in our social system be + corrected, but of much that the man be in his senses.” + +No foreign critic has ever pointed out more clearly the faults of the +American temperament. But shallow Americanism, with its boastfulness +and its conventionality, can not blind him to the ideal America that +lies far deeper. It is yet in the making. + + “We cannot look on the freedom of this country, in connection + with its youth, without a presentiment that here shall laws and + institutions exist on some scale of proportion to the majesty of + nature. To men legislating for the area betwixt the two oceans, + betwixt the snows and the tropics, somewhat of the grandeur of nature + will infuse itself into the code. A heterogeneous population crowding + on all ships from all corners of the world to the great gates of + North America, namely, Boston, New York, and New Orleans, and thence + proceeding inward to the prairie and the mountains, and quickly + contributing their private thought to the public opinion, their toll + to the treasury, and their vote to the election, it cannot be doubted + that the legislation of this country should become more catholic and + cosmopolitan than that of any other. It seems so easy for America to + inspire and express the most expansive and humane spirit; new-born, + free, healthful, strong, the land of the labourer, of the democrat, of + the philanthropist, of the believer, of the saint, she should speak + for the human race. It is the country of the future. Like Washington, + proverbially ‘the city of magnificent distances,’ through all its + cities, States, and Territories, it is a country of beginnings, of + projects, of designs, and expectations. + + “Gentlemen, there is a sublime and friendly Destiny by which the human + race is guided--the race never dying, the individual never spared--to + results affecting masses and ages. Men are narrow and selfish, but the + Genius or Destiny is not narrow, but beneficent. It is not discovered + in their calculated and voluntary activity, but in what befalls, with + or without their design.” + +Emerson believed as much as the politicians of his day in Manifest +Destiny. But he hoped for the country a destiny greater than that +which the politicians planned. The commercial progress of the day was +something to rejoice in as a part of a great onward movement. But +commercialism was not the end toward which the nation was moving. + + “Our part is plainly not to throw ourselves across the track, to block + improvement, and sit till we are stone, but to watch the uprise + of successive mornings, and to conspire with the work of new days. + Government has been a fossil; it should be a plant. I conceive that + the office of statute law should be to express, and not to impede the + mind of mankind. New thoughts, new things. Trade was one instrument, + but Trade is also for a time, and must give way to something broader + and better, whose signs are already dawning in the sky.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE POET + + “_I am born a poet--of a low class without doubt, but a poet. That + is my nature and vocation. My singing, to be sure, is very husky and + is for the most part in prose. Still I am a poet in the sense of a + perceiver and dear lover of the harmonies that are in the soul and in + matter, and specially of the correspondence between them._” + + +Emerson’s estimate of his poetical gifts was given in a letter to his +future wife. When he so clearly points out his limitations, it seems +ungracious to agree with his critical judgment, but one must do so. He +was not a poet in the sense of a maker of mighty harmonies. He did not +walk like Milton, with his “singing robes” about him. But he was a poet +in the sense of being a perceiver and dear lover of natural harmonies, +and he made us sharers of his perception. + +His singing voice was certainly very husky. Only a few of his poems +stand the test of being read aloud with perfect pleasure. Frequently +we are conscious of a metrical jolt. Not only is the ear pained by +dissonance, but there is a sense that the poetical inspiration has +suddenly given out. + +I am inclined to think that Emerson would have been happier if he had +frankly adopted “free verse.” For though he was a poet, he was not a +natural rhymster. In “Merlin” he makes a declaration of independence +which would please our new poets. + + “Great is the art + Great be the manners, of the bard. + He shall not his brain encumber + With the coil of rhythm and number.” + +And then he weakens his declaration by adding: + + “But, leaving rule and pale forethought, + He shall aye climb + For his rhyme.” + +The critic is tempted to ask, Why not let the rhyme go rather than +climb for it? Emerson’s rhymes were often most unhappy, and had the air +of being forced into service. + +Read his “May Day.” You will find jingling rhymes like + + “Not for a regiment’s parade, + Nor evil laws or rulers made, + Blue Walden rolls its cannonade.” + +We have such lines as these: + + “Every tree and stem and chink + Gushed with syrup to the brink. + The air stole into the streets of towns, + Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns.” + +After these rhymes that are easy to a fault, we have others that +are difficult: as _almanac_ and _coming-back_, _Superior Lake_ and +_Mackinac_, _cavaliers_ and _travelers_. Sometimes an obsolete word is +introduced for the sake of an imperfect rhyme: + + “They shook the snow from hats and shoon, + They put their April raiment on.” + +All this needs to be said at the beginning. It is when full allowance +is made for his poetical lapses that we are prepared to appreciate +Emerson’s real poetical gifts. While he had no power of sustained +verbal melody, he has given an unusual number of perfect lines. + +In “Voluntaries” we have a succession of commonplace verses, and +then come upon the lines that seemed chiseled by some great artist, +austerely beautiful and true: + + “So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When Duty whispers low, Thou must, + The Youth replies, I can.” + +In “Forerunners” one would not change a word. There is a gladness of +adventure. + +“Each and All,” “The Problem,” “Days,” are sources of endless delight. +In “Two Rivers,” Emerson expresses melodiously his poetical creed. He +is a perceiver and dear lover of the correspondence between the outer +and the inner worlds. The little river that runs through Concord is the +symbol of the eternities. + + “Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, + Repeats the music of the rain, + But sweeter rivers pulsing flit + Through thee, as thou through Concord plain. + + “Thou in thy narrow bed art pent, + The stream I love unbounded goes + Through flood and sea and firmament, + Through light, through life, it forward flows.” + +In the longer poems, like “Monadnock” and “Woodnotes,” there is nothing +consecutive. One might read them as Emerson himself was accustomed to +read, beginning at the last page and turning back the leaves in search +of a rewarding sentence. But there is a sparkling atmosphere and a +sense of the New England woods and hills. + + “’Twas one of the charmed days + When the genius of God doth flow, + The wind may alter twenty ways, + A tempest cannot blow.” + +Emerson is the poet of nature, and it is nature as revealed in New +England. We see the “twilight parks of beech and pine,” and the purple +berries, the upland pastures, the delicate mosses, the granite ledges, +over which the brooks go tumbling, the mountain lakes “edged with sand +and grass,” the “damp fields known to bird and fox.” Nowhere is it far +to the primitive granite, yet the land is not bare. Even on the ledges +“the ropelike pine roots crosswise grown” give a homelike invitation. +Nature is everywhere friendly, though there is a trace of austerity +about her welcome. + +But to the poet the outward forms of nature are but symbols. + + “Give me truths, + For I am weary of surfaces, + And die of inanition.” + +Flashing through woods and mountains and sky, he sees truths that +strengthen and inspire. What he seeks to express in his poetry is + + “... the sweet affluence of love and song, + The rich results of the divine consents + Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover.” + +Every poet who has any distinctive quality and is not merely an +imitator of other poets sees something which he wants to express. This +insight is his real contribution. The skill with which he is able to +communicate what he sees is another matter. + +The poets of the most universal appeal are those who see what everybody +else sees, only more intensely, and who can tell their story in words +which every one understands. Robert Burns, Whittier, James Whitcomb +Riley, need no interpreters. They themselves are interpreting what we +have already experienced. + +There are other poets whose endeavor is to make us see something which, +without their help, we might miss, or at least treat as something +unpoetical. Browning saw a greater complexity in human conduct and +character than we usually recognize, and he sought to present this +complexity to the imagination as well as to the reason. This involved +a good deal of explanation on his part, and explanatory remarks are +always prose. But the true Browning lover knows what his poet is +driving at and helps him out when he gets into difficulties. + +Walt Whitman saw the poetry which is in mere bulk and the sublimity +that is in great bare spaces. Let others sing of the finished products +of art and nature; he would celebrate the glory of the imperfect, +the romance of the raw material. To his mind a catalogue of the most +ordinary things was suggestive. It was the stuff poems are made of. +It was an inventory of the wealth we hold in common. He repeats the +names of American states and cities as Milton repeated the names of the +places old in story, which in his imagination stood for all sorts of +vague sublimities. If we catch something of this imaginative enthusiasm +for crude bulk and wide spaces and overflowing vitality, then we greet +Whitman as a great poet. Otherwise, we make nothing of him. “There +are in the world,” says Paul, “many kinds of voices, and no voice is +without its significance.” But he adds, if we do not understand the +person who is talking, he is a barbarian to us and we are as barbarians +to him. + +The poetry of Emerson has a quality growing out of a peculiar way of +looking at things. Whitman saw things in the rough. “Here is what +moves in magnificent masses, careless of particulars.” Emerson saw +the motion of masses, but he was not careless of particulars. His +attention was fixed not upon the mass but on the particles of which it +was composed. And his quick eye perceived that these particles had each +a motion of its own, and that the motion was bewilderingly rapid. + +Our dull eyes see results but not processes. We talk of the quickness +of thought, but we are really very slow-witted creatures and seldom see +what is going on. The things which we watch and talk about are really +the things which have already happened, just as we may be looking +at a star by light, which only tells us that it was shining some +centuries ago. Our judgment on what we call current events is apt to be +misleading because it is not strictly contemporaneous. + +The great illusion is that of arrested motion. Things seem to us to +stand still, which in reality are whirling about with inconceivable +velocity. Our sciences have demonstrated what our senses can not +perceive, and that which staggers our imagination. + +The astronomer tells us of the way this earthen ball on which we live +goes hurtling through space. But even the astronomer does not feel the +motion. The chemist tells us of the wild dances of the molecules. We +in a dull way perceive the fact of growth and decay and attraction and +repulsion, but we do not perceive them as incessantly happening. When a +powder mill is destroyed, we are startled by the explosion. But of the +multitude of tiny explosions, which result in the opening of a rose, or +the scattering of thistledown, we are unconscious. + +Now Emerson was profoundly stirred by thought of the explosive power of +nature. Indeed his world was always exploding. He attempts to express +the sense of these sudden happenings in his poetry. He is preeminently +the poet of swift motion. + + “Hearken! Hearken! + If thou wouldst know the mystic song + Chanted when the sphere was young. + Aloft, abroad, the pæan swells; + O wise man! hear’st thou half it tells? + O wise man! hear’st thou the least part? + ’Tis the chronicle of art. + To the open air it sings + Sweet the genesis of things, + Of tendency through endless ages, + Of star dust, and star-pilgrimages, + Of rounded worlds, of space and time, + Of the old flood’s subsiding slime, + Of chemic matter, force and form, + Of poles and powers, cold, wet and warm: + The rushing metamorphosis + Dissolving all that fixture is, + Melts things that be to things that seem, + And solid nature to a dream. + O, listen to the undersong, + The ever old, the ever young; + And, far within the cadent pauses, + The chorus of the ancient Causes!” + +This was the theme of Emerson’s poetry. It was the genesis of things as +revealed by modern science and interpreted by the poetic imagination. +He was the poet of the “rushing metamorphosis.” + +It was a world in which there was persistent force and ever-changing +form. The world soul cries, + + “Hearken once more! + I will tell thee the mundane lore. + Older am I than thy numbers wot, + Change I may, but I pass not. + Hitherto all things fast abide, + And anchored in the tempest ride. + Trenchant Time behooves to hurry + All to yean and all to bury: + All the forms are fugitive, + But the substances survive.” + +And that calm for which philosophers have always yearned, how shall +we attain it? Not by standing still, seeking refuge in some venerable +form, but by flinging ourselves into the swift current, and yielding +ourselves to the eternal power. + +It is possible for a man’s thought to keep step with nature “with +triumphant piercing sight,” seeing the end toward which all things move. + + “On him the light of star and moon + Shall fall with purer radiance down; + All constellations of the sky + Shed their virtue through his eye, + Him Nature giveth for defence + His formidable innocence; + The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, + All spheres, all stones his helpers be. + He shall never be old + Nor his fate shall be foretold; + He shall meet the speeding year + Without wailing, without fear.” + +The Actual is swift, but the Ideal is swifter. + + “Thee gliding through a sea of form, + Like the lightning through a storm, + Somewhat not to be possessed, + Somewhat not to be caressed, + No feet so fleet could ever find, + No perfect form could ever bind, + Thou eternal fugitive, + Hovering over all that live, + Quick and skilful to inspire + Sweet, extravagant desire.” + +There are poems of Emerson which we can make nothing of unless we have +happened to brood over the same problems. There is “Initial, Dæmonic +and Celestial Love.” It is unreadable, unless one reads between the +lines. + +When we ask what it is all about? the answer is that it is an attempt +to follow that “rushing metamorphosis” that we call love. Under one +name we speak of the attraction of sex which man shares with all the +animal world, and the highest and most disinterested affections. Here +is a passion in its beginning sensuous and selfish, capable of infinite +refinement till it becomes purely spiritual. Between love as a natural +impulse and love as a religious experience there are innumerable subtle +gradations. Emerson’s lines suggest the swiftness of the transitions. + +At first love is unmoral. + + “He is wilful, mutable, + Shy, untamed, inscrutable, + Swifter-fashioned than the fairies. + * * * + For Cupid goes behind all law. + + “There are impulses that are + Restless, predatory, hasting; + And they pounce on other eyes + As lions on their prey. + And round their circles is writ + Plainer than the day, + Underneath, within, above,-- + Love--love--love--love.” + +Out of these primitive instincts arise the higher kinds of love. They +do not develop in logical order. They are rather fierce and sudden +passions which, however, tend toward nobleness. + + “Man was made of social earth, + Child and brother from his birth, + Tethered by a liquid cord + Of blood through veins of kindred poured.” + +There is developed a loyalty to family and tribe. There come “throbs of +a wild religion.” There is + + “Beauty of a richer vein + Graces of a subtler strain.” + +After a time love is drawn to its object, not by a blind urgency, but a +conscious choice. The lover is open-eyed. + + “He doth elect + The beautiful and fortunate, + And the sons of intellect, + And the souls of ample fate, + Who the Future’s gate unbar.” + +But this love with all its possibilities of chivalry and romance is at +heart selfish. It seeks its own, and scorns all else. + + “The Dæmons are self-seeking, + Their fierce and limitary will + Draws men to their likeness still.” + +There is a love that “delights to build a road,” but “the Dæmon ever +builds a wall.” That impulse which unites is met by an impulse which +divides. So it happens that + + “Ever the Dæmonic love + Is the ancestor of wars.” + +But these partial preferences and passions do not exhaust the meaning +of love. There is a celestial love. + + “But God said, + ‘I will have a purer gift, + There is smoke in the flame.’” + +There is a love that is one with justice and truth. It is a passion +still, but it is a passion for perfection. It comes with insight of a +swifter kind. + + “Thou must mount for love + Into vision where all form + In one only form dissolves. + * * * + “Pray for a beam + Out of that sphere, + Thee to guide and to redeem. + O, what a load of care and toil, + By lying use bestowed, + From his shoulders falls who sees + The true astronomy.” + +The love of the one becomes the symbol of good-will to all. + + “Not glad, as the low-loving herd, + Of self in other still preferred, + But they have heartily designed + The benefit of broad mankind. + And they serve men austerely, + After their own genius, clearly, + Without a false humility; + For this is Love’s nobility,-- + Not to scatter bread and gold, + Goods and raiment bought and sold: + But to hold fast his simple sense, + And speak the speech of innocence, + And with hand, and body, and blood, + To make his bosom-counsel good. + For he that feeds men serveth few; + He serves all who dares be true.” + +In all this Emerson is expressing his philosophy. But he does it not as +a formal teacher, but as a poet. + +In the “Threnody,” in which he sought comfort after the death of a +dearly loved child, there is the same sense of the quick transitions +between the physical and the spiritual. He summons his faltering +thought to follow his boy into the vast regions of the unknown. It is +not a void but full of possibilities of life. + + “When frail Nature can no more, + Then the Spirit strikes the hour: + My servant Death, with solving rite, + Pours finite into infinite.” + +The loved form disappears, but the love goes on in search of its +object. Change there must be, but change does not mean destruction +of real values. Emerson finds strength in the thought that what is +“excellent is permanent.” And that permanence is not of form but of +force. + + “Wilt thou freeze love’s tidal flow, + Whose streams through nature circling go? + Nail the wild star to its track + On the half-climbed zodiac? + Light is light which radiates, + Blood is blood which circulates, + Life is life which generates, + And many-seeming life is one,-- + Wilt thou transfix and make it none? + Its onward force too starkly pent + In figure, bone, and lineament? + Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate, + Talker! the unreplying Fate? + Nor see the genius of the whole + Ascendant in the private soul, + Beckon it when to go and come, + Self-announced its hour of doom? + Fair the soul’s recess and shrine, + Magic-built to last a season; + Masterpiece of love benign + Fairer that expansive reason + Whose omen ’tis, and sign. + Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know + What rainbows teach, and sunsets show? + Verdict which accumulates + From lengthening scroll of human fates, + Voice of earth to earth returned, + Prayers of saints that inly burned,-- + Saying, What is excellent, + As God lives, is permanent; + Hearts are dust, hearts’ loves remain, + Heart’s love will meet thee again + Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye + Up to his style, and manners of the sky. + Not of adamant and gold + Built he heaven stark and cold; + No, but a nest of bending reeds, + Flowering grass, and scented weeds; + Or like a traveller’s fleeing tent, + Or bow above the tempest bent; + Built of tears and sacred flames, + And virtue reaching to its aims; + Built of furtherance and pursuing, + Not of spent deeds, but of doing. + Silent rushes the swift Lord + Through ruined systems still restored, + Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless, + Plants with worlds the wilderness; + Waters with tears of ancient sorrow + Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow. + House and tenant go to ground, + Lost in God, in Godhead found.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE POETRY OF SCIENCE + + “_Science always goes abreast with the just elevation of the man + keeping step with religion and metaphysics; or the state of science + is an index of self-knowledge. Since everything in Nature answers to + a moral power, if any phenomenon remains brute and dark it is because + the corresponding faculty in the observer is not yet active._” + + +Emerson’s idea of the scientific intelligence keeping step with the +moral and spiritual faculties is an illuminating one. It suggests to +us what happened in the nineteenth century, and gave rise to so much +confusion. + +The orderly progress of the human mind was broken up by the sudden +and unprecedented advance of the physical sciences. In a single +generation knowledge advanced with great leaps, which carried it into +regions which had never before been entered. There was a penetrating +power in the scientific method which amazed those who used it. The +geologist, the chemist, the biologist, were daily enlarging the sphere +of knowledge. Political economists were claiming the whole sphere of +morals as their own. + +But all this progress was one-sided. Was the advance of scientific +knowledge only another name for disenchantment? Was the bloom of the +world to be brushed off, never more to return? The poets and the +artists and idealistic moralists were panic-stricken. Those who picture +the mood of the so-called Victorian Age as one of smug complacency +forget the predominant feeling of its men of literary and artistic +genius. Ruskin, Tennyson, Matthew Arnold agree in lamenting the fact +that “knowledge comes but wisdom lingers.” A glory had departed from +the world. We are in danger, they thought, of knowing too much. + +Matthew Arnold voiced this despondent mood in his poem, “The Future.” +Man was born in a boat that floats upon the River of Time. At the +beginning it was a clear flowing mountain stream, and looking out upon +the romantic mountains the voyager’s heart was full of joy. + + “As is the world on the banks + So is the mind of the man.” + +Our fathers lived in a world of poetry. Life to them was simple but +full of mystery. It was easy to believe and wonder and enjoy. But the +tract which the River of Time now flows through is the level plain, +bordered by cities, crowded with traffic. Our world is prosaic, and +we must adapt ourselves to it as best we may. All that remains is a +melancholy resignation. + +It was against this mood of depression that Emerson always protested. +The man of science, he says, does not divest the world of mystery. +He does not “explain away” anything. His explanations are but the +translating one mystery into another. His knowledge is never final. It +reveals deep behind deep. + +The trouble is with ourselves. We allow our imagination to grow torpid. +In the processes of nature are the materials not only for scientific +investigation, but for poetry also. An evolving universe is a theme +that can never be exhausted. + +Emerson had not the equipment of the man of science, but he had the +imagination which sympathized with the tendencies of scientific +investigation. It seemed to him that they were confirmations of the +intuition of the poets. That matter is not dead but thrilling with +energy; that space is not empty but is the medium through which +forces operate; that all things are related; that lower forms of life +are always reaching out toward that which is higher; that there is +a tendency for the organism to grow more complex and therefore more +wonderful,--these were discoveries that ought to kindle the poetic +imagination. + +Emerson did not flatter himself that he had the ability to express the +new view of the universe. The new poetry he believed would be realistic +without losing its charm. + + “For it is dislocation and detachment from the life of God that + makes things ugly. The poet who reattaches things to nature and the + whole--reattaching even artificial things and violations of nature + to nature by a deeper insight--disposes very easily of the most + disagreeable facts.” + +That to the true poet all things are poetical was a teaching that +he repeats continually. It was this belief that made him greet Walt +Whitman with such effusion. When in 1855 the “Leaves of Grass” +appeared, the literary world was affronted. Whittier, it is said, threw +his presentation copy into the fire. Emerson, almost alone in his +recognition of the new note, wrote, + + “I give you joy of your free and brave thought. I have great joy in + it. I find incomparable things, said incomparably well, as they must + be. I find the courage of treatment which so delights us, and which + large perception only can give. I greet you at the beginning of a + great career.” + +But when Walt, in the exuberance of joy over the appreciation, +published a new edition with Emerson’s commendation printed on the +cover, the Concord poet was displeased. There were later interviews, +but each man became conscious of the limitations of the other. “I was +simmering, simmering, simmering,” said Whitman, “and Emerson brought +me to boil.” Emerson approved the ideas which were simmering in the +younger poet’s mind, but when they actually boiled over he was inclined +to get out of the way. This was not mere fastidiousness. It indicated a +different conclusion drawn from what lawyers call “agreed facts.” Walt +Whitman expresses the creed of Emerson in his “Song of the Universal:” + + “Come, said the Muse, + Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted, + Sing me the Universal. + + “In this broad earth of ours + Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, + Enclosed and safe within its central heart + Nestles the seed perfection. + + “By every life a share or more or less, + None born but it is born concealed or + Unconcealed the seed is waiting. + + “Over the mountain growths, disease and sorrow, + An uncaught bird is ever hovering, hovering, + High in the purer happier air. + + “From imperfection’s murkiest cloud + Darts always forth one ray of perfect light, + One flash of heaven’s glory. + + “To fashion’s, custom’s discords, + To the mad Babel din, the deafening orgies, + Soothing each lull a strain is heard, just heard, + From some far shore the final chorus sounding. + + “O the blest eyes, the happy hearts, + That see, that know the guiding thread so fine + Along the mighty labyrinth.” + +That spiritual realities are wrapped up in the material world, and that +the seed of perfection may be found amid the apparent grossness of the +earth, was a creed, which both poets fervently believed. But what had +it to do with the poet’s art? + +Whitman, in his robust faith that goodness was universal, felt relieved +from the responsibility of choice. Nature had invited him to a feast of +good things. He would take pot luck, and enjoy the rude plenty. This +he conceived to be the very essence of democracy. He would take good +things in the bulk. + +Emerson also chanted the praise of the universal, but with a somewhat +different emphasis. He was interested in the grossness and the slag +only for the sake of the seed perfection that lay hidden in it. It +is the uncaught bird that flies above the mountain, it is the ray of +perfect light that now and then flashes through the murky clouds, that +must be the theme of poetry. The poet must follow the guiding thread +or he is lost in the labyrinth. There must be discrimination. Nature +has something more than fecundity. There is an austere rejection of +the lower forms of life in favor of the higher. There is a continual +refinement going on. To interpret this side of nature is the function +of art. In this discrimination he was in harmony with the scientific +attitude. + +The man of science does not yield to an idle curiosity. He selects the +objects of his study and the method to be used. The laboratory is not +cluttered up with all the objects which a naturalist might encounter +in his walks. Only such objects as are fitted for the purpose are +selected. Should not the poet exercise the same kind of discrimination? + +Whitman tells us how on Beacon Street in Boston he walked with Emerson +for two hours, discussing their agreements and differences. + + “During these two hours he was the talker and I the listener. It was + an argument,--statement, reconnoitering, review, attack and pressing + home against all that could be said against my poems,--Children of + Adam. Emerson’s statement was unanswerable, no judge’s charge ever + more complete or convincing. I could never hear the points better + put,--and then I felt down in my soul the clear and unmistakable + conviction to disobey all, and pursue my own way.” + +As between Emerson and Whitman as poets, it is not necessary for us to +decide. Both stood in the presence of nature. Whitman delighted in its +obvious aspects, its sheer bulk, its prodigality, its endless variety. +Emerson was more interested in the laws which it illustrated and the +unseen forces which move it. He was listening to the “chorus of the +ancient causes.” This is what made his words so precious to the men +of science who in the nineteenth century were waging a battle against +ancient formulas which obscured the meaning of their researches. + +Professor Tyndall, in his famous address to the British Association +in 1870, took his text from Emerson, to whom in many other places he +acknowledged his indebtedness. His theme was “The Scientific Use of the +Imagination,” and he began by repeating Emerson’s lines which I have +already quoted, beginning: + + “If thou wouldst know the mystic song + Chanted when the sphere was young.” + +Here, he said, is the poetic expression of the spirit of modern science. + +In another essay, Professor Tyndall denies the common notion that +advances in science are made simply by the patient pushing out of +boundaries of knowledge according to a prosaic system. Beyond the +region of actual light where facts are clearly seen, there is a +penumbral region. Here is a field where intuition goes in advance of +knowledge. “Here the investigator proceeds by combining intuition +and verification. He ponders the knowledge he possesses and tries +to push it further; he guesses and checks his guess, he conjectures +and confirms or rejects his conjecture.... Thus the vocation of the +true experimentalist may be defined as the continued use of spiritual +insight, and its incessant correction and realization. His experiments +constitute a body of which his purified intuitions are as it were the +soul.” + +Those “purified intuitions,” which Tyndall declares constituted the +very soul of science, were to Emerson the essence of poetry. What the +scientist discovered to be true, the poet saw to be beautiful. Both +recognized the fact that nature was not fixed but fluid. We see the +successive phases of an endless genesis. + + “The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still + truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy + even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth + becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild + delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature + says,--he is my creature, and maugre all his imperfect griefs, he + shall be glad with me. Not the sun of the summer alone, but every + hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and + change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, + from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that + fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the + air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in + snow-puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my + thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a + perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods, + too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what + period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods is perpetual + youth. Within these plantations of God a decorum and sanctity reign, + a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should + tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods we return to reason and + faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,--no disgrace, + no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. + Standing on the bare ground,--my head bathed by the blithe air, and + uplifted into infinite space,--all mean egotism vanishes. I become + a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the + Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. + The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental; to + be brothers, to be acquaintances,--master or servant is then a trifle + and a disturbance. I am a lover of uncontained and immortal beauty.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PIETY + + “_We love the venerable house + Our fathers built to God;-- + In heaven are kept their grateful vows, + Their dust endears the sod._ + + “_Here holy thoughts a light have shed + From many a radiant face, + And prayers of humble virtue made + The perfume of the place._ + + “_And anxious hearts have pondered here + The mystery of life, + And prayed the eternal Light to clear + Their doubts, and aid their strife._ + + “_From humble tenements around + Came up the pensive train, + And in the church a blessing found + That filled their homes again_; + + “_For faith and peace and mighty love + That from the Godhead flow, + Showed them the life of Heaven above + Springs from the life below._ + + “_They live with God; their homes are dust; + Yet here their children pray, + And in this fleeting lifetime trust + To find the narrow way._ + + “_On him who by the altar stands, + On him thy blessing fall, + Speak through his lips thy pure commands, + Thou heart that lovest all._” + + +Among the strange adventures of words, which are continually losing +their original meanings and taking up with new associations, there +is none stranger than that of the word Piety. To the Romans it was +preeminently a manly virtue. There was no suggestion of weakness about +it. It represented the behavior of the strong man toward his parents, +kinsmen, country or benefactors. It implied a fine courtesy and a sense +of the fitness of things. There was a sober affection for all that was +permanent in human relations. Antoninus Pius represented the kind of +loyalty which the Romans most admired. + +It is this piety in the ancient sense which Emerson’s hymn represents. +It is the very opposite of conventional pietism. To him the New +England meeting-house was venerable, because of its associations +with what was most sacred and enduring in the life of his own people. +Whittier himself has not expressed more tenderly his appreciation of +the personal influences which have bound the generations together in +common worship. + +The same note is sounded in the hymn sung at the completion of the +Concord Monument, April 19, 1836. + + “By the rude bridge that arched the flood, + Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, + Here once the embattled farmers stood, + And fired the shot heard round the world. + + “The foe long since in silence slept; + Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; + And Time the ruined bridge has swept + Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. + + “On this green bank, by this soft stream, + We set to-day a votive stone; + That memory may their deed redeem, + When, like our sires, our sons are gone. + + “Spirit, that made those heroes dare + To die, and leave their children free, + Bid Time and Nature gently spare + The shaft we raise to them and Thee.” + +In the lines entitled “Grace” there is a recognition of the debt which +the individual owes to the society of which he is a part, and by which +he is protected. + + “How much, preventing God how much I owe + To the defences thou hast round me set; + Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,-- + These scorned bondmen were my parapet. + I dare not peep over this parapet + To gauge which glance the roaring gulf below, + The depth of sin to which I had descended + Had not these me against myself defended.” + +In considering the individualism of Emerson we have to take account of +the fact that he never really broke with the past, nor did he consider +it necessary to do so in order to achieve freedom. He acknowledged his +indebtedness to those who had gone before him. But his reverence for +their example led him not to stand perpetually where they stood; but +rather to go on in the same direction in which they were going. + +All who heard Emerson in the pulpit bear witness to the atmosphere +of reverence which pervaded his utterances. One who listened to him +writes: + + “One day there came into our pulpit the most gracious of mortals with + a face all benignity who gave out the first hymn and made the first + prayer as an angel might have read or prayed. Our choir was a pretty + good one, but its best was coarse and discordant after Emerson’s + voice. I remember the sermon only that it had an indefinite charm of + simplicity and wisdom, with occasional illustrations from Nature, + which were about the most delicate and dainty things of the kind I had + ever heard. I could understand them, if not the fresh philosophical + novelties of the discourse.” + +Emerson was remarkably incurious in regard to the problems propounded +by formal theologians, but he was a profound believer in the religion +of experience. Piety, whether manifest toward God or man, was something +altogether natural. + + “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 + that 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 ought 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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THOU SHALT NOT PREACH + + “_‘A new commandment,’ said the smiling Muse, ‘I give my darling son, + Thou shalt not preach.’_” + + +In one sense Emerson was always a preacher. His main interest was in +the moral law and in the development of character. When he left the +pulpit for the lecture platform he was only changing one congregation +for another. In the Unitarian ministry to which he belonged, the sermon +and the essay were not always clearly differentiated. + +But in another sense Emerson obeyed the prohibition of the smiling +muse. He had no genius for exhortation, nor had he any desire to +enforce his precepts upon unwilling minds. He lacked the fervor of the +true evangelist, and could not cry, “Turn ye! turn ye! why will ye +die?” He could not enforce the gospel of liberalism as did his friend, +Theodore Parker. His attitude was like that of the man of science to +the subject of his investigation. “Here is the truth as I see it. Now +investigate it for yourselves and see what you think of it.” + +In the Divinity School address, Emerson startled his hearers by a bold +prophecy. + + “I look for the hour when that supreme Beauty which ravished the soul + of these Eastern men, and chiefly of those Hebrews, and through their + lips spake oracles to all time, shall speak in the West also. The + Hebrew and the Greek scriptures contain immortal sentences that have + been the bread of life to millions. But they have no epical integrity, + are fragmentary, are not shown in their order to the intellect. I + look for the new Teacher that shall follow so far these shining laws + that he shall see them come round full circle; shall see the world + to be the mirror of the soul, shall see the identity of the law of + gravitation with purity of heart; and shall show that the Ought, that + Duty is one thing with Science, with Beauty and Joy.” + + “Virtue is vitiated,” said Emerson, “by too much will. He who aims + at progress should aim at an infinite not at a special benefit. The + reforms whose fame now fills the land with Temperance, Anti-slavery, + Non-Resistance, no Government, Equal Labor, fair and generous as each + appears, are poor, bitter things when prosecuted for themselves as an + end.... The soul can be appeased not by a deed, but by a tendency.” + +The born preacher appeals to the will and seeks to change its +direction. He pleads and threatens. He is instant in season and out of +season. Only on a few great occasions did Emerson adopt that tone. The +greatest truths seemed to him to be self-evidencing. In their presence +all minds were equal. “The weight of the universe is pressed down on +the shoulders of each moral agent to hold him to his task.” + + “Let us have nothing now but what is its own evidence. There is surely + enough for the heart in the religion itself. Let us not be pestered + with half-truths and assertion and snuffle. + + “There will be a new church founded on moral science, at first cold + and naked, a babe in a manger again, the algebra and mathematics of + ethical law, the church of men to come, without shawms, or psaltery, + or sackbut; but it will have heaven and earth for its beams and + rafters; science for symbol and illustration; it will fast enough + gather beauty, music, picture, poetry. Was never stoicism so stern + and exigent as this shall be. It shall send man home to his central + solitude, shame these social, supplicating manners, and make him know + that much of the time he must have himself to his friend. He shall + expect no cooperation, he shall walk with no companion. The nameless + Thought, the nameless Power, the super-personal Heart,--he shall + repose alone on that. He needs only his own verdict. No good fame + can help, no bad fame can hurt him. The Laws are his consolers, the + good Laws themselves are alive, they know if we have kept them, they + animate him with the leading of great duty and an endless horizon. + Honor and fortune exist to him who always recognizes the neighborhood + of the great, always feels himself in the presence of high causes.” + +To all this the preacher might answer, “You have left out of your +account something which is very important in human nature, namely, its +weakness. The ordinary man lives amid the wonders of nature, but he may +be very little affected by them. He needs some strong voice to urge +him to open his eyes to what is around him. If it is so with the most +obvious sights, is it not more so with moral and spiritual beauty? Is +not the preacher needed as well as the philosopher and poet?” + +No one would be more willing to acknowledge this than Emerson. His +criticism of Plato would be equally true of himself. + + “Plato, lover of limits, loved the illimitable, saw the enlargement + and nobility that came from truth itself and good itself, and + attempted as if on the part of the human intellect to do it adequate + homage.... It remains to say that the defect of Plato in power is only + that which results inevitably from his quality. He is intellectual + in his aim, and therefore in expression literary. Mounting into + heaven, diving into the pit, expounding the laws of the state, the + passion of love, the remorse of crime, the hope of the parting soul, + he is literary and never otherwise. It is almost the sole deduction + from Plato that his writings have not--what is no doubt incident to + this regnancy of intellect in his work--the vital authority which + the screams of the prophets and the sermons of unlettered Arabs + and Jews possess. There is an interval; and to cohesion contact is + necessary.... I know not what can be said in reply to this criticism + but that we have come to a fact in the nature of things; an oak is not + an orange. The qualities of sugar remain with sugar, and those of salt + with salt.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LURE OF THE WEST + +“_If I had a pocket full of money I think I should go down the Ohio and +up and down the Mississippi by way of antidote to what small remains of +Orientalism (so endemic in these parts) there may still be in me--to +cast out, I mean, the passion for Europe, by the passion for America; +and our reverence for Cambridge, which is only a part of our reverence +for London, must be transferred across the Alleghany ridge._”--EMERSON +TO MARGARET FULLER. + + +New England has always been the home of an intense patriotism. The +spirit of Bunker Hill and Lexington has never been quenched. Nor can +it be said that any part of the country has sent out more men who have +taken part in an effective way in large national enterprises. + +Yet in the days before the Civil War, when Boston became conscious of +itself as a literary center, it was open to the charge of not having +yet discovered America. It belonged to a New England that still looked +to Old England for its models. This, I take it, was always true more of +the literary circles than of the mass of the people, but it was that +which determined the admiration of those who aspired to “culture.” As +Daniel in Babylon prayed with his windows opened toward Jerusalem, +so the Boston literati, when they took pen in hand, wrote with their +study windows open toward London. As to what was happening in the great +hinterland beyond the Hudson, they cared little. And the people in the +hinterland, who were so busy opening up the resources of the continent +that they hadn’t time to be literary, resented in a good-natured +way the Bostonian attitude. It had that “certain condescension” +which Lowell resented on the part of Europeans, but from which he +and his friends were not altogether free when they encountered the +representative men of the West. + +I think if is fair to say that Emerson did more than any one else to +redeem the New England group of authors from the kind of provincialism +which was their darling sin. He did it in a twofold way: first, by +attacking their imitation of things English, and then by inculcating a +hearty admiration for the America that was growing up in the West. + +In “English Traits” he pays tribute to the sturdy virtues of the +English character and the wealth of English talent. But he insists +on treating England not as the Mother Country, but as a different +country,--as different as France or Italy. He admires it, but it is +with a critical detachment. Hawthorne wrote of England as The Old Home. +Emerson had very little of the Old Home idea. There were ties of deep +friendship, but he recognized that the genius of Britain and the genius +of America were different. He admired the differences. + + “The wealth of the source is seen in the plenitude of English nature. + What variety of power and talent, what facility and plenteousness + of knighthood, lordship, ladyship, royalty, loyalty; what a proud + chivalry is indicated in ‘Collin’s peerage’ through eight hundred + years. What dignity resting on what reality and stoutness. What + courage in war, what sinew in labor, what cunning unknown, what + inventors and engineers, what seamen and pilots, what clerks and + scholars.” + +But this admiration has nothing in it of the provincial’s attitude to +the greatness and privilege of those who belong to the capital. Had one +said, “Go thou and do and be likewise,” Emerson would not have budged +an inch. His attitude toward the sturdy Englishman would be like his +attitude toward the Churchman: + + “I like a church, I like a cowl, + I love a prophet of the soul, + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + Yet not for all his faith can see + Would I that cowlèd churchman be.” + +Emerson had an admiration for the true-born Englishman, but not for +the anglicized American. He believed in culture, but there must be an +American culture that must grow out of the conditions of our own life. +In his lines entitled “Culture” he defined the cultivated man as one who + + “To his native center fast, + Shall into Future fuse the Past, + And the world’s flowing fates in his own mould recast.” + +And when he thought of the world’s flowing fates, his mind turned +westward. There great things were happening. A new civilization was +being created. There was nothing condescending in the attitude of the +thinker to these men of action, who on an unparalleled stage were +beginning a new act. + +Against the fastidious critics of Boston, Emerson defends the rough and +ready men of the West, who were already making their influences felt in +politics. + + “As long as our people quote English standards, they dwarf their own + proportions. A Western lawyer of eminence said to me he wished it + were a penal offence to bring an English lawbook into court in this + country, so pernicious had he found in his experience our deference + to English precedent. The very word commerce has only an English + meaning and is pinched to the cramp exigencies of English experience. + The commerce of rivers, the commerce of railroads, and who knows but + the commerce of air balloons must give an American extension to the + pond-hole of admiralty. As long as our people quote English standards, + they will miss the sovereignty of power.” + +Even before the Civil War Emerson discerned clearly the significance +of the Middle West and the great part it was destined to play in the +development of civilization. The old thirteen states had a tradition +that was essentially British. The great states which had been +established in the Mississippi valley were in their origin purely +American. There was no colonial background to their history. Here the +pioneer spirit had developed freely. It was the spirit of Daniel Boone +and Davy Crockett and Peter Cartwright. + +Emerson reminds his fastidious friends that there is an explosive +energy in young America. + + “Men of this surcharge of arterial blood cannot live on nuts and herb + tea and elegies, cannot read novels and play whist, cannot satisfy + all their wants at the Thursday lecture or the Boston Athenæum. They + pine for adventure, and must go to Pikes Peak, had rather die of the + hatchet of a Pawnee than sit all day and every day at a counting-room + desk. They are made for war, for the sea, for mining, hunting and + clearing, for hairbreadth adventures, huge risks and adventurous + living.... Their friends and governors must see that some vent for + their explosive complexion is provided. The roisterers who are + destined for infamy at home will cover you with glory and come back + heroes and generals. There are Oregons, Californias and exploring + expeditions enough appertaining to America to find them in files to + gnaw and crocodiles to eat.” + +Emerson could not satisfy all his wants in the Boston Athenæum or the +Saturday Club. Every year he escaped from his neighbors for a lecture +tour in the West. It was before the days of the Pullman car, and +traveling in interior America meant roughing it. + +He did not put on any airs as a missionary of culture. He could not +make a living as a writer of books. He must earn something as an +itinerant lecturer. + + “It comes to this. I’ll bet you fifty dollars a day for three weeks + that you will not leave your library and wade and freeze and ride and + run, and suffer all manner of indignities, and stand up for an hour + every night reading in a hall! I bet I will. I do it and win the nine + hundred dollars.” + +The ways of the lecturer were not always pleasant. “Two nights in a +rail car and a third on the floor of a canal boat, where the cushion +allowed me for a bed was crossed at the knees by another tier of +sleepers as long-limbed as I, so that the air was a wreath of legs.” + +In 1853 he writes from Springfield, Illinois, “Here I am in the deep +mud of the prairies. It rains and thaws incessantly and if we step off +a short street we go up to the shoulders perhaps in mud. My chamber is +a cabin, my fellow-boarders are legislators. Two or three governors or +ex-governors live in the house. But in the prairie we are all new men, +and must not stand on trifles.” + +In mid-winter he makes this entry in his journal: “My chief adventure +was the necessity of riding in a buggy forty-eight miles to Grand +Rapids; then after lecture twenty more in return, and the next morning +back to Kalamazoo in time for the train hither at twelve.” This was at +a time when Kalamazoo was a name strange to Bostonian ears. + +It was not comfortable traveling through blizzards to discourse +to audiences which gathered in chilly or stuffy halls, but it was +interesting. “Here is America in the making, America in the raw. But it +does not want much to go to lecture, and ’tis a pity to drive it.” + +It is only fair to add that Emerson’s appreciation of the new West was +intellectual rather than intimately social. He saw it in the large, +and treated it in a symbolic way. He saw the significance of the +western man’s boastfulness over the growth of the country. He liked to +watch towns grow. He would have delighted in the Chicago man’s remark +that when Chicago turned to culture it would make culture hum. That was +after Emerson’s own heart, and it was that spirit which he wished to +infuse into his well-beloved Boston. + +In 1839 he writes, “It is a sort of maxim with me never to harp on the +omnipotence of limitations. Least of all do we need any suggestion +of checks and measures, as if New England were anything else.... Our +virtue runs in a narrow rill, we have never a freshet. One would +like to see Boston and Massachusetts agitated like a wave with some +generosity, mad for learning, for music, for philanthropy, for freedom, +for art. We have insight and sensibility enough if we had constitution +enough.” + +The old Puritan capital of Massachusetts has become a great +cosmopolitan city, and what were then raw towns of the West are +to-day making culture hum, but it is interesting to read Emerson’s +judgments. He insisted that the rough work which the pioneers were +doing, clearing the forest, building railroads, laying out cities and +incidentally speculating in corner lots did not indicate that they were +materialistic. They were idealists of an heroic sort. They were big men +doing big things. The amenities would come in time. The fierce energy +with which they did their work would be turned at length to the finer +arts. He greeted them as the makers of a new civilization. The men of +the West knew all this before. But they were glad to have Mr. Emerson +come out and confirm them in their splendid anticipations. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +EMERSON’S ELUSIVE SMILE + + “_Uprose the merry Sphinx + And crouched no more in stone._” + + +It was only the accident of local contiguity that made Doctor Holmes +attempt a biography of Emerson. The men were altogether unlike, +and their minds seldom met. Emerson’s mysticism was to Holmes an +intellectual frailty to be covered over by a friendly apology. But the +doctor, though averse to transcendentalism, was a good judge of wit and +humor. He tells us that no one can fully appreciate Emerson who has not +seen the quick smile with which he read passages which his sober-minded +disciples took as oracles to be pondered, while to him they were +flashes of wit. + +Emerson certainly had wit, but he was not witty in the ordinary sense, +nor did he really enjoy the broader kinds of humor. He tells us how he +went with little Waldo to the circus and they enjoyed themselves hugely +till the clown came out to perform his antics. Waldo whispered, “The +funny man makes me want to go home.” His father adds that he was of his +opinion. It was a sore trial to him, therefore, when in his lectures +he was sometimes expected to play the funny man. In preparing them for +the press he, to the disappointment of some of his friends, cut out the +enlivening anecdotes which his more austere taste disapproved. + +Play of wit there was, but it was a game of solitaire. The great wits +like Sidney Smith need antagonists and spectators for their play. +Theirs is the quick give and take, or the unexpected word that sets the +table in a roar. Emerson, as we have seen, was strangely deficient in +conversational aptitude, and had no power of repartee. He complains of +the way in which he was put down by clever talkers. “A snipper snapper +eats me whole.” + +Many of those who had been attracted by his writings were disappointed +when they came to him to talk over the subjects which he had suggested. +They found it hard to get at him. Henry James, the elder, declares that +he knew of no one “whose conversation was less remunerative.” + +Emerson’s wit was, to use William Penn’s phrase, “the fruit of +solitude.” It was produced by collisions of thought that took place in +his own mind, these happenings having no particular relation to time or +place. They are “the smile of reason” over the incongruities developed +in the course of human reasoning. + +It was a part of Emerson’s philosophy. To him the man thinking was like +a schoolboy with lexicon and grammar trying to read a Latin classic. +It is hard work, and the schoolboy frowns as he bends to the task. The +frown indicates his grim determination, which is a good sign. He is +making hard work of it, will learn the lesson in time. But his serious +demeanor indicates also that he does not yet know the meaning of the +words he is painfully puzzling over. For they were written in lighter +vein and contain a merry jest. When the meaning flashes forth, the +words are forgotten, and the boy smiles understandingly. + +Emerson’s quick but illusive smile came when he perceived the meaning +of something which had seemed to be meaningless. The riddle of +existence seems to most men the cause of futile effort to understand. +The sphinx is a very solemn character indeed. To Emerson the mystery +was not a cause of complaint. He suspected the sphinx of practical +jokes. She was concealing something from us. + + “I heard a poet answer + Aloud and cheerfully, + ‘Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges + Are pleasant songs to me. + Deep love lieth under + These pictures of time; + That fade in the light of + Their meaning sublime.’” + +When thus challenged + + “The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,-- + Said, ‘Who taught thee me to name? + I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow, + Of thine eye I am eyebeam.’” + +Then the frowning face gave way to a smile, and “up rose the merry +sphinx and crouched no more in stone.” + +The conception of a “merry sphinx” is deliciously Emersonian. The +tables are turned upon the bitter satirist. The satirist smiles when +he sees the incongruity between what men expect and what they actually +receive, between what they profess to be and what they are. In all this +it is assumed that the reality is worse than the expectation. Things +are not what they seem. + +Quite so, says Emerson, but they are not always worse than they seem. +They are often infinitely better than they seem. We are all the time +entertaining angels unawares. We are dull creatures, and are slow to +recognize our betters. If it is amusing to unmask a hypocrite, is it +not still more amusing to discover that the commonplace individual whom +we have been patronizing is really a king in disguise? + + “Seek not beyond thy cottage wall + Redeemers that can yield thee all, + While thou sittest at the door + On the desert’s yellow floor, + Listening to the grey-haired crones, + Saadi, see! they rise in stature + To the height of mighty Nature, + And the secret stands revealed. + Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,-- + The blessed gods in servile masks + Plied for thee thy household tasks.” + +And when the performance does not come up to the expectation, the +sudden discovery is not always unpleasant. + + “The essence of all jokes, of all comedy seems to be an honest and + well-intentioned half-ness, a non-performance of what is intended + to be performed. The balking of the intellect, the frustrated + expectation, the break of the continuity in the intellect is comedy.” + +Emerson was very seldom known to laugh outright, and indeed rather +disliked that explosion. But he was exceedingly sensitive to “breaks in +the continuity of the intellect.” His mind was naturally logical. If +this be so, that will follow, he argued. But he was quick-witted to see +that sometimes the thing which he expected did _not_ follow. He could +not help but smile at the contradiction to his logic. + + “This is the radical joke of life and then of literature. The presence + of the ideal of right and truth in all action makes the yawning + delinquencies of practice remorseful to the conscience, tragic to the + interest, but droll to the intellect.” + +This intellectual perception is necessary for our sanity. + + “We have no deeper interest than our integrity, and that we should + be aware by joke and by stroke of any lie we entertain. Besides, a + perception of the comic seems a balance wheel in our metaphysical + structure. It appears to be an essential element in a fine character. + Wherever the intellect is constructive it will be found. We feel the + absence of it as a defect in the noblest and most oracular soul. The + perception of the comic is a tie of sympathy with other men, and a + protection from those perverse tendencies and gloomy insanities in + which fine intellects sometimes lose themselves. A rogue alive to the + ludicrous is still convertible. If that sense is lost, his fellow men + can do little for him.” + +The rogue who can laugh at himself may be converted. But the +sentimentalist who takes himself too seriously is in an unsalvable +condition. + + “Society is infested by persons who, seeing that the sentiments + please, counterfeit the expression of them. These we call + sentimentalists--talkers who mistake the description for the thing, + saying for having. They have, they tell us, an intense love of + nature; poetry; O they adore poetry and roses and the moon, and + the cavalry regiment, and the governor; they “dear liberty;” they + worship virtue--“dear virtue.” Yes, they adopt whatever merit is + in good repute, and almost make it hateful with their praise. The + warmer their expressions, the colder we feel; we shiver with cold. + A little experience acquaints us with the inconvertibility of the + sentimentalist, the soul that is lost by mimicking soul. Cure the + drunkard, heal the insane, mollify the homicide, civilize the Pawnee, + but what lessons can be devised for the debauchee of sentiment? Was + ever one converted?” + +It happened that Emerson attracted many of these sentimentalists and he +was not unconscious of the humor of the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE QUIET REVOLUTIONIST + + “_The Past has baked my loaf, and in the strength of its bread I break + up the old oven._” + + --EMERSON’S JOURNAL. + + +It is not easy for some people to understand Emerson’s attitude +toward the revolutionary forces that are all the time threatening the +stability of society. One can appreciate the fierce energy of the +revolutionist who, believing that the social structure is altogether +bad, seeks to destroy it. On the other hand, there are those who look +with alarm at every project that involves radical change. + +But here was a quiet householder who habitually uttered the most +revolutionary sentiments as if they were the most natural thoughts +in the world. Of course the institutions which we see around us are +not permanent. They are not the real things with which we have to do. +They are the results of what took place yesterday; they are yielding +to what is taking place to-day. The only reality is the force which +makes and unmakes them. Laws, customs, constitutions, churches, are the +results of the revolutionary impulse in man. They are the temporary +embodiments of restless thought. Everything follows thought. You think +of armies, and priesthoods, and courts of justice, as necessities. Yes, +they are necessities of thought. Change the thought and they change +their form. The temple that seems to have grown out of the solid earth +has in reality grown out of the vague aspirations of the worshipper. +It grew as the tree grows, through a power of working from within. It +was built as the bird builds its nest, through an instinct which was +irresistible. + + “Know’st thou what wove yon woodbird’s nest + Of leaves, and feathers from her breast? + Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, + Painting with morn each annual cell? + Or how the sacred pine tree adds + To her old leaves new myriads? + Such and so grew these holy piles, + Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. + Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, + As the best gem upon her zone, + And morning opes with haste her lids + To gaze upon the Pyramids; + O’er England’s abbeys bends the sky, + As on its friends, with kindred eye; + For out of Thought’s interior sphere + There wonders rose to upper air.” + +One might watch the face of a man in the act of thinking. As one +thought follows another, the mobile features change. Nerves and muscles +respond to the impulses from within. The lips curve now downward, now +upward, the cheeks quiver, the eyes dilate and then close, tell-tale +wrinkles appear upon the forehead, the chin grows firm and then is +relaxed, the pose of the head is now defiant and again it droops. The +man is lost in thought, and unconscious of how he appears. To him the +thought is all. + +Two painters may be watching him. One is a literalist. To him the pose +and features are everything. He imagines himself to be a realist, +and his ambition is to portray the man as he actually is. Now it is +obviously impossible literally to put all the changing expressions on +a single canvas. So what the painter does is to seize one attitude and +treat it as if it were permanent. The result is something hard and +unyielding. We recognize the likeness, but there is no suggestion of +the possibility of a change of mood. It is not, as we say, a speaking +likeness. + +The other painter is a real artist. To him the features are quivering +with expression, and the expression changes at every instant. He sees +his subject as alive. The smile, the frown, the tense muscles all mean +something. They indicate what the man is thinking about. The shape and +poise of the head tell whether nature has endowed him with the capacity +to have thoughts that are significant. The aim of the artist is first +to get inside the man’s mind and then to interpret that mind through +the outward features. + +If he succeeds, we say his picture is alive. The limitation of his art +demands that he shall present only the attitude of a single moment, +but we perceive that attitude is about to change. He is in the act of +doing something, and there is on our part a feeling of expectancy. The +orator’s lips are mobile, he is about to speak. The soldier’s hand is +on his sword, he is about to grasp it firmly and wield it with all his +might. It is always the suggestion of something that is coming that +marks the work of genius. + +Now there are two ways of looking at human institutions,--from without +or from within. We may look at laws and customs as if they were fixed +and final. They are the features of a giant carved in stone. We may be +idolaters of the existing order, worshipping the carved image. Or we +may be iconoclasts, ready to give it a smashing blow. + +But to one who seeks to look at it all from within, the institutions +represent but the transitory glory of features of the Great Being. +The Great Being is thinking, he is dreaming of things to come, he is +planning his dwelling place upon earth. The thoughts come thick and +fast, and the acts follow each after its kind. + +Humanity, conceived of as a great composite being, of which we +are parts, is all alive and quivering with aspiration. It is never +satisfied with the work of its own hands, and it never gives up +working. Thousands of human beings are at a given time impelled by one +spirit, and cooperate to one end. Their actions are not rational in the +sense that each individual is able to give a reason, or least the right +reason, for what he does. And yet the process, looked at as a whole, is +not irrational. There is some big thought behind it all, of which all +the action is expressive. Give us time and we can see the outlines of +the thought. + +Humanity is thinking. It is storing up experience. It is a creative +force. Even what we call matinalistic progress, is itself but the +following of an idea. + + “And what if Trade sow cities + Like shells along the shore, + And thatch with towns the prairie broad + With railways ironed o’er? + They are but sailing foam bells + Along Thought’s causing stream, + And take their shape and sun color + From him that sends the dream.” + +The historian tells of the Roman Empire, Feudalism, the Crusades, the +French Revolution. These are tremendous facts. But the facts mean +nothing till we see them as the expression of successive states of +mind. Royalty as an institution is incredible to the born democrat who +is without imagination, and who does not take the trouble to ask how +the loyal subject feels toward his anointed king. And democracy is an +empty name to one who has never felt the thrill of the idea that lies +behind it. + +In looking back from the vantage ground of several centuries, it is +possible to see how a generation of men may be obsessed by an idea that +determines all their achievements. We may see that idea lose hold upon +the mind of the next generation, and lo all the mighty works lose all +interest. It is as if one moment we saw the face of the Great Being all +aquiver with interest. Then suddenly the light fades and he turns away +from the work of his own hands. + +But it is not so easy to realize that the mighty works of our own +day owe their existence, and depend for their security on the same +transitory support of thought. They represent our present thinking, and +when we come to think differently they will disappear. + +“Ah,” but we say, “we go down to hard facts. We build upon the granite +of actuality, not on anything so unsubstantial as mere thought.” + +Emerson would answer. “You think of the granite mountain peak as +unchanging. Ask the geologist to tell you what he knows about +Monadnock. To him the mountain does not seem very old. Its present form +is but a transitory thing. It is but a bubble upon the earth that is +sailing through stars with all its history.” + +The poet who has learned the lesson of geology hears the mountain +confess its own instability. + + “Let him heed who can and will; + Enchantment fixed me here + To stand the hurts of time, until + In loftier chant I disappear. + If thou trowest + How the chemic eddies play, + Pole to pole, and what they say; + And that these gray crags + Not on crags are hung, + But beads are of a rosary + On prayer and music strung; + And, credulous, through the granite seeming, + Seest the smile of Reason beaming;-- + . . . + “Knowest thou this? + O pilgrim, wandering not amiss! + Already my rocks lie light, + And soon my cone will spin.” + +Older than the mountain is the power from which it sprang. And that +power is only interpreted by Thought. + + “Monadnock is a mountain strong, + Tall and good my kind among; + But well I know, no mountain can, + Zion or Meru, measure with man. + For it is on zodiacs writ + Adamant is soft to wit: + And when the greater comes again + With my secret in his brain, + I shall pass, as glides my shadow + Daily over hill and meadow.” + +“When the greater comes again.” That was what Emerson was always +murmuring to himself. The greatness that he recognized was the +greatness of thought. + +He was therefore always eager to meet men who were dissatisfied with +existing things and making plans for betterment. He received them +hospitably, he listened sympathetically. That their schemes involved +radical changes did not frighten him. It seemed to be in the order of +nature. + +But he always applied the same test. It was not enough that their +proposal should be for something different. It must also be something +greater, and the greater includes the less. When the greater thought +comes, it shall make us understand and appreciate the good that already +exists. It will make universal what is now partial. The “song of Human +progress” he expresses in the song of nature. + + “I wrote the past in characters + Of rock and fire the scroll, + The building of the coral sea, + The planting of the coal. + + “Let war and trade and creeds and song + Blend, ripen race on race, + The sunburnt world a man shall breed + Of all the zones and countless days. + + “No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new, + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew.” + +Notice the way in which the view of nature and the hopes for human +nature are blended. Out of a few ancient elements, nature is +continually making new and amazing combinations. Nothing is destroyed, +everything is transformed. The same conservation of energy he discerns +in humanity. The elements of character are old as the race, but no one +can prophesy what new perfection can be obtained from them. + +One may see Emerson’s thought best by contrasting it with that of a +poet whose mind turned toward the same subject. Wordsworth and Emerson +both loved to personify nature, and in communion with nature they found +refreshment of spirit. But Emerson, who was not accustomed to use terms +of disparagement, sometimes spoke more harshly of Wordsworth than of +any other modern English poet. + +The fact was that the two men looked at nature with quite different +eyes. To Wordsworth, nature was the arch conservative. Over against the +vain commotion of humankind was the great brooding presence of a power +that could be relied upon because it was ever the same. And after his +first fever of revolutionary ardor, Wordsworth returned to nature as +to a refuge from all innovations. Here was the calm of an established +order, and the more nearly human institutions conformed to this +stability, the better for them. + +To Emerson, nature was not the symbol of what is unchanging; it was +eager, flashing, evanescent, infinitely suggestive. It was never the +same. When it seemed the same it was only because our eyes are so dull +that we can not catch all the transitions. + +And that which helps us in our contact with the natural world is not +its soothing lullabys. It is the challenge which comes to join in the +quick and rude play of the forces which are creating and recreating the +world. Come out-of-doors, the voice cries, and know what it is to live. + + “‘Bookworm, leave thy sloth urbane, + A greater spirit bids thee forth + Than the gray dreams that thee detain. + Mark how the climbing Oreads + Beckon thee to their arcades, + Youth, for a moment free as they, + Teach thy feet to feel the ground + Ere yet arrives the wintry day + When Time thy feet has bound. + Take the bounty of thy birth + Taste the Lordship of the earth.’ + + “I heard, and I obeyed,-- + Assured that he who made the claim + Well known, but loving not a name, + Was not to be gainsaid.” + +Nature does not rebuke our impatience when we break up old forms in +order to make better. She is our accomplice, and conspires with us. +We misrepresent her when we try to imitate her. Only in some stroke +of originality do we accept her challenge. To see only repetition in +nature is not to see at all. + + “Alas, thine is the bankruptcy, + Blessed nature so to see. + “Behind thee leave thy merchandise, + Thy churches and thy charities, + And leave thy peacock wit behind. + Enough for thee the primal mind + That flows in streams, that breathes in wind. + Leave all thy pedant lore apart; + God hid the whole world in thy heart. + Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, + Gives all to them who all renounce. + The rain comes when the wind calls, + The river knows the way to the sea, + Without a pilot it runs and falls, + Blessing all lands with its charity. + The sea tosses and foams to find + Its way up to the cloud and wind. + The shadow sits close to the flying ball, + The date fails not on the palm tree tall, + And thou,--go burn thy wormy pages,-- + Shalt outsee seers and outwit sages.” + +That which he saw in nature he saw in every human effort that was free +and spontaneous. He loved to call it the _Newness_. The Newness is that +“which reconciles impossibilities, atones for shortcomings, expiates +sins or makes them virtues, buries in oblivion the crowded historical +past, sinks religions, philosophies, persons to legends, reverses the +score of opinion of fame, reduces science to opinion, and makes the +thought of the moment the key to the universe and the egg of history to +come.” + + “The Divine Newness. Hoe and spade, sword and pen, pictures, gardens, + laws, bibles and prizes, only they were means He sometimes used. So + with astronomy, music, arithmetic, castes, feudalism--we kiss with + devotion these hems of His garment. We mistake them for Him, they + crumble in ashes on our lips.” + +To the worshipper of the Divine Newness, there was nothing terrible +in the voices of eager innovators, for innovation is in the order of +nature, and “the good human race outlives them all, and forever in +the heart abides the old sovereign sentiment requiring justice and +good-will to all, and rebuilds the decayed temples, and with new names +chants again the praises of Eternal Right.” + + “The idea which now begins to agitate society has a wider scope + than our daily employments, our households and the institutions of + property. We are to revise the whole of our social structure, the + state, the school, religion, marriage, trade, science, and explore + their foundations in our own nature; we are to see that the world not + only fitted the former men, but fits us, and to clear ourselves of + every usage which has not its roots in our own mind. What is a man + born for but to be a Reformer, a Re-maker of what man has made; a + renouncer of lies; a restorer of truth and good, imitating that great + Nature which embosoms us all, and which sleeps no moment on an old + past, but every hour repairs herself, yielding us every morning a new + day, and with every pulsation a new life? Let him renounce everything + which is not true to him, and put all his practices back on their + first thoughts, and do nothing for which he has not the whole world + for his reason. If there are inconveniences, and what is called ruin + in the way, because we have so enervated and maimed ourselves, yet it + would be like dying of perfumes to sink in the effort to re-attach the + deeds of every day to the holy and mysterious recesses of life.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MEDITATIONS ON POLITICS + + “_In dealing with the State, we ought to remember that its + institutions are not aboriginal, though they existed before we were + born; that they are not superior to the citizen, that every one of + them was the act of a single man, every law and usage was a man’s + expedient to meet a particular case._” + + +What has been said of Emerson’s faith in the “Divine Newness” must +be taken into account when we read his essay on politics. Like the +Epistles of St. Paul, it contains some things hard to be understood, +“which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest to their own +destruction.” I have seen an anarchistic pamphlet which was made up +almost entirely of quotations from Emerson. + +Indeed, on the face of it, it appears to be an argument not only +against political parties, but against government in general. This is +because doubt is thrown upon what we usually call the foundations of +organized society. Emerson did not believe that government had any +_foundations_. He did not think of it as a building solidly resting +upon a rock, and where one stone is fitted upon another. He thought of +the state as a living body perpetually being renewed and having a power +of motion. This organism so long as it is healthy can adapt itself to +all kinds of conditions. The aim of politics is not to prevent change, +but to prevent stagnation, which is death. + +Before reading Emerson on Politics, read Burke’s wonderful tributes to +the British Constitution and diatribes on the French Revolution. To +Burke the British Constitution was a stately English mansion. It was +the home of ordered Liberty. Generations have worked upon this mighty +edifice. It was founded by the fathers; the new generations could +add to it. But let no vandal attempt to dislodge one stone. It must +be preserved in all its original beauty. The institution once formed +became itself the object of pious solicitude. It was not a tool to be +used, but a sacred symbol of the nation’s life. + +Emerson did not feel that any political institution had such sanctity +as that. “To the young citizen,” he says, “organized society lies +in rigid repose, men and institutions rooted like oak trees to the +center around which all arrange themselves as best they can. But the +old statesman knows that society is fluid; there are no such roots +and centers, but any particle may suddenly become the center of the +movement and compel the system to gyrate around it.” + + “That kind of government which prevails is the expression of what + cultivation exists in the society which permits it. The law is only a + memorandum. We are superstitious and esteem the statute somewhat. So + much life as it has in the character of living men is its force.” + +He then considers the two objects for which governments exist--persons +and property. He shows how it is the tendency of the propertied classes +to get control of the government and make the laws. This is so even in +a democracy. The protection of property then becomes the business of +governments rather than the welfare of persons. + + “Ordinarily our parties are parties of circumstances and not of + principle, as the planting interest in conflict with the commercial, + parties which are identical in their moral character, and which can + easily change ground with each other in many of their measures.” + +The conservative party may be composed of kind-hearted and excellent +people, but it can never be trusted when property interests conflict +with personal rights. “The conservative party, composed of the most +moderate, able and cultivated part of the community, is timid and +merely defensive of property. It vindicates no right, it aspires to no +real good, it brands no crime, it proposes no generous policy, it does +not build, nor cherish the arts, nor foster religion, nor establish +schools, nor encourage science, nor emancipate the slave, nor befriend +the poor, or the Indian, or the immigrant.” + +We Americans boast of our political institutions. + + “But our institutions, though in coincidence with the spirit of the + age, have not any exemption from the practical defects which have + discredited other forms. Every actual state is corrupt. Good men must + not obey the laws too well. What satire on government can equal the + severity of censure conveyed in the word ‘politic,’ which for ages has + signified cunning, intimating that the state is a trick. + + “We live in a very low state of the world and pay unwilling tribute to + governments founded on force.” + +The essay ends with a glowing picture of a society of perfect freedom, +in which reliance would be put on moral forces alone, and “the private +citizen might be reasonable and a good neighbor without the hint of a +jail or confiscation.” + +As we come to this conclusion, we say with a start, “This mild-spoken +gentleman has been saying something which sounds very much like what +the revolutionary radicals have been preaching with lamentable results. +He has brought us to the edge of the precipice of philosophic anarchy.” + +Perhaps so, but the mild-mannered gentleman is not an anarchist, and it +has never entered his head to jump off the precipice. He has come to +look at the view and he intends to return home by way of the turnpike. + +What Emerson has been saying is that political institutions are not +ends in themselves, and that it is a superstition to regard them as +such. They are expedients that are always capable of improvement. +The resort to physical coercion would not be necessary in a perfect +society. But in the meantime, what are we to do? Emerson’s common sense +makes answer. + + “Let not the most conservative and timid fear anything from the + premature surrender of the bayonet and the system of force. For + according to the order of Nature, which is quite superior to our + will, it stands thus: there will always be a government of force + where men are selfish; and when they are pure enough to abjure the + code of force, they will be wise enough to see how the public ends + of the post-office, of the highway, of commerce, and the exchange of + property, of museums, libraries, institutions of art and science can + be answered.” + +Emerson would agree with the philosophical anarchist in saying that a +society is possible in which men and women can regulate their affairs +without the consciousness of any coercive governmental force. He would +agree also that we ought to strive after such a free society. But when +it came to the practical question as to how to attain this ideal, +they would part company. The anarchist would say, “Let us abolish +government, and then we shall have a community of individuals each one +of whom will be a law unto himself.” + +Emerson would say, “I can not follow you. You put the cart before the +horse. You have fallen into the political superstition against which +I have been protesting. You attribute to the _absence_ of government +power which the legalists attribute to governmental control. They +think that law can make men virtuous; you think that the lack of it +can perform the miracle. My attitude is that of Paul in regard to +the observance of the Jewish ceremonial law. ‘Circumcision availeth +nothing, and uncircumcision but the new creature.’” + +“Yes,” the practical man would say, “that is all very well, but how +are you going to get the new creature? If we had better men, wise, +temperate, just, tolerant, we should not need so many laws; but how are +we to produce such personalities?” + +At this point, the philosophy of the twentieth century would take issue +with the liberalism of the nineteenth century. We have more faith in +the power of institutions than had Emerson and his contemporaries. We +are trying the experiment of free government under much more difficult +conditions, The study of the social sciences has made us emphasize +cooperation. May not society through wise laws and well-conceived +institutions direct its own destinies? + +To which Emerson would answer: “Yes, if society is composed of enough +wise and self-reliant individuals. But social progress depends on +individual progress. A man must be able to stand alone before he is +able to cooperate to any advantage.” + +His faith in the destiny of America was founded on the belief that the +people were better than their politics. There was a power there to be +invoked in time of need. We are as yet only incompletely organized, but +the power is there. Little by little there will be created institutions +that will more adequately represent the aspirations of multitudes of +private persons. + + “When I look at the constellations of cities which animate and + illustrate the land, and see how little the government has to do with + their daily life, how self-helped and self-directed all families + are--knots of people in purely natural societies--societies of + trade, of kindred blood, of habitual hospitality, house and house, + man acting on man by weight of opinion, of longer or better directed + industry, the refining influence of women, the invitation which + experience and permanent causes open to youth and labors--when I see + how much each virtuous and gifted person, whom all men consider, lives + affectionately with scores of excellent people who are not known far + from home, and perhaps with great reason reckons these people his + superiors in virtue and in the symmetry and force of their qualities, + I see what cubic values America has, and in these a better certificate + of civilization than great cities or enormous wealth.” + +In regard to the definite political issues of the time, Emerson’s +sympathies were clearly expressed. Slavery was always an abomination +to him, but he was slow to identify himself with the abolitionists. +Their narrowness and intolerance offended his sense of fair play, while +their courage attracted him. When the issue became one of the right +to free speech, he stood squarely with them. Against the extension of +slavery he protested vigorously. When the Civil War came, Emerson threw +himself heartily into the side of the Union. Toward Lincoln himself +his attitude was one of doubt till the proclamation of emancipation +came. After that there was no one who did more to interpret the soul of +Lincoln to the people. + +But in one thing Emerson differed from most of the New England +idealists. He did not put his trust in the respectable classes alone. +He delighted in the crude strength of the people. His conception of +American politics was that which Theodore Roosevelt so admirably +illustrated in the generation following. It was the magnificent +challenge to the reformer who was virile enough to meet all men on +their own ground and overcome them there. + + “A timid man,” Emerson says, “listening to the alarmist in + Congress and in the newspapers and observing the profligacy of + party--sectional interests urged with a fury which shuts its eyes to + consequences, with a mind made up to desperate extremities, ballot in + one hand and rifle in the other, might easily believe that he and his + country had seen their best days and harden himself the best he can + against the coming ruin.” + +But he believed that there were elements of strength which the timid +man did not take into account. The rough and ready politician was +likely to be more nearly right than the fastidious person who despairs +of the republic. + + “Let these rough riders,--legislators in shirtsleeves,--Hoosier, + Sucker, Wolverine, Badger,--or whatever hard head Arkansas, Oregon, + or Utah sends, half orator, half assassin, to represent its wrath + and cupidity at Washington,--let these drive as they may; and the + disposition of territories and public lands, the necessity of + balancing and keeping at bay the snarling majorities of German, Irish, + and of native millions, will bestow promptness, address, and reason, + at last, on our buffalo-hunter, and authority and majesty of manners. + The instinct of the people is right. Men expect from good Whigs put + into offices by the respectability of the country, much less skill to + deal with Mexico, Spain, Britain, or with our own malcontent members, + than from some strong transgressor, like Jefferson, or Jackson, who + first conquers his own government, and then uses the same genius to + conquer the foreigner. The senators who dissented from Mr. Polk’s + Mexican war were not those who knew better, but those who, from + political position, could afford it; not Webster, but Benton and + Calhoun. + + “These Hoosiers and Suckers are really better than the snivelling + opposition. Their wrath is at least of a bold and manly cast. They + see, against the unanimous declarations of the people, how much crime + the people will bear; they proceed from step to step, and they have + calculated but too justly upon their Excellencies, the New England + governors, and upon their Honours, the New England legislators. The + messages of the governors and the resolutions of the legislatures are + a proverb for expressing a sham virtuous indignation, which, in the + course of events, is sure to be belied.” + +Wisdom is justified of her children and Emerson’s political teachings +bore fruit in a man of the next generation,--Theodore Roosevelt. +Roosevelt’s “strenuous life” was a popular exposition of the Emersonian +doctrine. The strong man is needed in a democracy. He must understand +the snarling majorities and the obstinate minorities. He must enjoy +the conflict. He must play the game. But he must at the same time have +a moral ideal of his own, simple and commanding. He must be not a +statuesque statesman but a rough and ready idealist. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CANDID FRIEND OF ENGLAND + + “_A wise traveller will naturally choose to visit the best of actual + nations, and an American has more reasons than another to visit + Britain._” + + +When in 1833 Emerson first visited England, his chief interest was in +a few great men whose writings had inspired him with a desire to see +their faces. He met Coleridge, Wordsworth, Landor and Carlyle; but he +had few opportunities to become acquainted with the English people. + +In 1847 he was invited to give a course of lectures before various +Mechanics’ Institutes in different parts of England. This visit gave +him an opportunity to compare the Englishman at home with his own +countrymen. The results of his observations were embodied in a volume +entitled “English Traits.” This book differs from the other works of +Emerson in that it follows a distinct method. The writer gives us +a picture of England and the English as he saw them in the middle +years of the nineteenth century. The book gives the impressions of a +philosophic traveler who was anxious to get beneath the surface and +get at the secrets of power. He treats of wealth, race, literature, +journalism, aristocracies, religion, education. + +Emerson differs from his contemporary Americans in treating England not +as “the mother country,” but as a foreign country. The result of this +is a detachment of mind which enables him to give judgments which are +free from prejudice. The thing which impressed Emerson the most was the +robustness of the people. There was a rude vigor which had not been +impaired by centuries of civilization. The Englishman seemed a better +animal than the American. In common sense, in practical sagacity, in +the adoption of means to ends the English manifested themselves to be a +masterful race. + + “Their self-respect, their faith in causation, and their realistic + logic or coupling of means to ends have given them the leadership of + the modern world. Montesquieu said, ‘No people have true common sense + but those who were born in England.’ This common sense is a perception + of all the conditions of our earthly existence, of laws that can be + stated, and of laws that cannot be stated, or that are learned only by + practice, in which allowance for friction is made. They are impious in + their skepticism of theory, and in high departments they are cramped + and sterile. But the unconditional surrender to facts, and the choice + of means to reach their ends, are as admirable as with ants and bees. + + “The bias of the nation is a passion for utility. They love the + lever, the screw and pulley, the Flanders draught-horse, the + waterfall, windmills, tide mills, the sea and the wind to bear their + freight-ships. More than the diamond Koh-i-noor, which glitters among + their crown-jewels, they prize that dull pebble which is wiser than a + man, whose poles turn themselves to the poles of the world, and whose + axis is parallel to the axis of the world. Now, their toys are steam + and galvanism. They are heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at the + coarse; not good in jewelry or mosaics, but the best iron-masters, + colliers, wood-combers, and tanners in Europe. They apply themselves + to agriculture, to draining, to resisting encroachment of sea, wind, + travelling sands, cold and wet subsoil; to fishery, to manufacture of + indispensable staples,--salt, plumbago, leather, wool, glass, pottery + and brick,--to bees and silkworms; and by their steady combinations + they succeed. A manufacturer sits down to dinner in a suit of + clothes which was wool on a sheep’s back at sunrise. You dine with a + gentleman on venison, pheasant, quail, pigeons, poultry, mushrooms and + pineapples, all the growth of his estate. They are neat husbands for + ordering all their tools pertaining to house and field. All are well + kept. There is no want and no waste. They study use and fitness in + their building, in the order of their dwellings and in their dress. + The Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the shirt. The + Englishman wears a sensible coat buttoned to the chin, of rough but + solid and lasting texture. If he is a lord he dresses a little worse + than a commoner. They have diffused the taste for plain substantial + hats, shoes and coats through Europe. They think him the best dressed + man, whose dress is so fit for his use that you cannot notice or + remember to describe it.” + +There is a delightful chapter on English manners. + + “The Englishman is very petulant and precise about his accommodation + at inns and on the roads; a quiddle about his toast and his chop, and + every species of convenience, and loud and pungent in his expressions + of impatience at any neglect. His vivacity betrays itself at all + points, in his manners, in his respiration and the inarticulate noises + he makes in clearing the throat,--all significant of burly strength. + He has stamina; he can take the initiative in emergencies. He has + that _aplomb_ which results from a good adjustment of the moral and + physical nature and the obedience of all the powers to the will; as + if the axes of his eyes were united to his backbone and only moved + with the trunk. + + “This vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect, each + of every other. Each man walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, + gesticulates, and, in every manner, acts and suffers without reference + to the bystanders, in his own fashion, only careful not to interfere + with them or annoy them; not that he is trained to neglect the eyes of + his neighbours,--he is really occupied with his own affair, and does + not think of them. Every man in this polished country consults only + his convenience, as much as a solitary pioneer in Wisconsin. I know + not where any personal eccentricity is so freely allowed, and no man + gives himself any concern with it. An Englishman walks in a pouring + rain, swinging his closed umbrella like a walking stick; wears a wig, + or a shawl, or a saddle, or stands on his head, and no remark is made. + And as he has been doing this for several generations it is now in the + blood. + + “In short, every one of these islanders is an island himself, safe, + tranquil, incommunicable. In a company of strangers you would think + him deaf; his eyes never wander from his table and newspaper. He is + never betrayed into any curiosity or unbecoming emotion. They have + all been trained in one severe school of manners, and never put off + the harness. He does not give his hand. He does not let you meet his + eye. It is almost an affront to look a man in the face without being + introduced. In mixed or in select companies they do not introduce + persons; so that a presentation is a circumstance as valid as a + contract. Introductions are sacraments. He withholds his name. At + the hotel he is hardly willing to whisper it to the clerk at the + book-office. If he gives you his private address on a card, it is like + an avowal of friendship; and his bearing on being introduced is cold, + even though he is seeking your acquaintance and is studying how he + shall serve you.” + +In regard to America the Englishman was in those days apt to be +condescending. + + “The English dislike the American structure of society, whilst yet + trade, mills, public education and chartism are doing what they can to + create in England the same social condition. America is the paradise + of the economists; is the favourable exception invariably quoted to + the rules of ruin; but when he speaks directly of the Americans, + the islander forgets his philosophy and remembers his disparaging + anecdotes.” + +Emerson’s criticism of the England which he saw is of interest to-day +because most Englishmen would agree with it. It is a penetrating study +of a period that has now passed away. From the consideration of defects +he turns to the wealth and plenitude of the English nature, and the +essential soundness of character. + + “I feel in regard to this aged England with the possessions, honours + and trophies, and also with the infirmities of a thousand years + gathering around her, inevitably committed to many old customs which + cannot be suddenly changed; pressed upon by the transitions of trade, + and new and all incalculable modes, fabrics, arts and competing + populations,--I see her not dispirited, not weak but well remembering + that she has seen dark days before; indeed with a kind of instinct + that she sees rather better in a cloudy day, and that in the storm of + battle and calamity she has a secret vigor and a pulse like a cannon. + I see her in her old age not decrepit but young and still daring to + believe in her power of endurance and expansion.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AMONG HIS BOOKS + + “_I put the duty of being read invariably on the author. If he is not + read, whose fault is it?_” + + --EMERSON’S JOURNAL, 1854. + + +Living as he did in the midst of the New England colleges, one may +wonder why Emerson did not find a place in some chair of literature. +Longfellow, Lowell and Holmes were professors. Why was not Emerson +sought for as a teacher of youth? + +The question occurred to him more than once, but he answers it in a +characteristic fashion. The reason why he was not asked, he says, +was because those in authority thought he was not fitted for such a +position, and he had a suspicion that they were right. + +I am ready to concur in this judgment. Professor Emerson, I am sure, +would have been embarrassed by a row of students conscientiously +taking notes and giving docile assent to his challenging sentences with +a keen eye to the marks that were to be the reward of their attention. + +Emerson’s attempts to be didactic were uniformly unfortunate. He could +not command his moods for any systematic exposition. He confesses +that the ways of the academic scholar were always an astonishment +to him. His thoughts would not “stay put.” In the course of a year +he managed to get through with a respectable amount of work, but it +came occasionally. When he knew that he ought to write a lecture, +it quickened his wits to write a poem for the _Dial_, and when the +editor of the _Dial_ demanded a poem, it stirred his mind to a new +effort at prose composition. Having found that this method answered +best for his own constitution, he became reconciled to it, but it +could not be recommended by a professor to his students. Neither could +his favorite method of reading, beginning at the end of the book and +reading backward, with wide intervals between the acts, be recommended, +although it has its advantages as a method of testing. If there is +a suspicion that the apples in a basket have been “deaconed,” the +skeptical buyer will reverse the order in which they appear. The fruit +looks different bottom side up. + +But the chief disability of Emerson as a formal teacher of literature +takes us back to the consideration to which attention was drawn in +the first chapter. His mind has its real affinity to the thinkers of +antiquity, to whom books were not an object of special interest. The +proper study of mankind was man and nature. The book was only the +record of some fellow-student, useful as stimulating his own thought. + + “It seems meritorious to read; but from every thing but history or the + works of the old commanding authors I come back with the conviction + that the slightest _wood thought_, the least significant native + emotion of my own, is more to me.” + +Bibliolatry, in the wide sense of book worship, had no more +uncompromising enemy. “We are too civil to books. For a few golden +sentences we will turn over and actually read a volume of four or five +hundred pages.” + +One can imagine Emerson’s intonation as he expressed his wonder that we +would actually read four or five hundred pages for the sake of a golden +sentence which might be concealed in them. The great art of the reader +was to pass quickly over the desert place in order to linger long in +the green oasis. + + “The colleges, whilst they provide us with libraries, furnish no + professor of books; and, I think, no chair is so much wanted. In a + library we are surrounded by many hundreds of dear friends, but they + are imprisoned by an enchanter in these paper and leathern boxes; + and, though they know us, and have been waiting two, ten, or twenty + centuries for us,--some of them,--and are eager to give us a sign, + and unbosom themselves, it is the law of their limbo that they must + not speak until spoken to; and as the enchanter has dressed them, + like battalions of infantry, in coat and jacket of one cut, by + the thousand and ten thousand, your chance of hitting on the right + one is to be computed by the arithmetical rule of Permutation and + Combination,--not a choice out of three caskets, but out of half a + million caskets all alike. But it happens in our experience, that in + this lottery there are at least fifty or a hundred blanks to a prize. + It seems, then, as if some charitable soul, after losing a great + deal of time among the false books, and alighting upon a few true + ones which made him happy and wise, would do a right act in naming + those which have been bridges or ships to carry him safely over dark + morasses and barren oceans, into the heart of sacred cities, into + palaces and temples. This would be best done by those great masters + of books who from time to time appear,--the Fabricii, the Seldens, + Magliabechis, Scaligers, Mirandolas, Bayles, Johnsons, whose eyes + sweep the whole horizon of learning. But private readers, reading + purely for love of the book, would serve us by leaving each the + shortest note of what he found. + + “There are books; and it is practicable to read them, because they are + so few. We look over with a sigh the monumental libraries of Paris, + of the Vatican and the British Museum. In 1858 the number of printed + books in the Imperial Library at Paris was estimated at eight hundred + thousand volumes, with an annual increase of twelve thousand volumes; + so that the number of printed books extant to-day may easily exceed + a million. It is easy to count the number of pages which a diligent + man can read in a day, and the number of years which human life in + favourable circumstances allows to reading; and to demonstrate that, + though he should read from dawn till dark, for sixty years, he must + die in the first alcoves. But nothing can be more deceptive than this + arithmetic, where none but a natural method is really pertinent. I + visit occasionally the Cambridge Library, and I can seldom go there + without renewing the conviction that the best of it all is already + within the four walls of my study at home. The inspection of the + catalogue brings me continually back to the few standard writers who + are on every private shelf; and to these it can afford only the most + slight and casual additions. The crowds and centuries of books are + only commentary and elucidation, echoes and weakeners of these few + great voices of Time.” + +For the mere book worm he had little respect. + + “And yet--and yet--I hesitate to denounce reading as aught inferior + and mean. When visions of my books come over me, as I sit writing, + when the remembrance of some poet comes, I accept it with pure joy, + and quit my thinking as sad, lumbering work, and hasten to my little + heaven.” + +There were not many authors who were admitted to his little heaven. +They were so congenial to his own mind that there was no question of +mine and thine. It did not matter what the subject was so that it was +treated in a suggestive way. The great purpose of literature is to +stimulate the faculty of thinking. + + “You say, ‘Your reading is irrelevant.’ Yes, for you, not for me. + It makes no difference what I read. If it is irrelevant, I read it + deeper. I read it till it is pertinent to Nature and the hour that now + passes. A good scholar will find Aristophanes and Hafiz and Rabelais + full of American history.” + +His ambition for his own books was that they might be treated in the +same fashion. “I would have my books read as I read my favorite books, +not with explosion and astonishment, a marvel and a rocket, but as a +friendly and agreeable influence.” + +In his incursions into Book-land he followed the same method, or lack +of method. He read what pleased him. The best guide to such books he +thought was common fame. Certain books had pleased generations of +readers. This proved that they were readable. + + “The best rule of reading will be a method from nature, and not + a mechanical one of hours and pages. It holds each student to a + pursuit of his native aim, instead of a desultory miscellany. Let + him read what is proper to him, and not waste his memory on a crowd + of mediocrities. As whole nations have derived their culture from a + single book,--as the Bible has been the literature as well as the + religion of large portions of Europe,--as Hafiz was the eminent genius + of the Persians, Confucius of the Chinese, Cervantes of the Spaniards; + so, perhaps, the human mind would be a gainer if all the secondary + writers were lost,--say, in England, all but Shakespeare, Milton and + Bacon,--through the profounder study so drawn to those wonderful + minds. With this pilot of his own genius, let the student read one, or + let him read many, he will read advantageously. Doctor Johnson said: + ‘Whilst you stand deliberating which book your son shall read first, + another boy has read both; read anything five hours a day and you will + soon be learned.’ + + “Nature is much our friend in this matter. Nature is always clarifying + her water and her wine. No filtration can be so perfect. She does + the same thing by books as by her gases and plants. There is always + a selection in writers, and then a selection from the selection. All + books that get fairly into the vital air of the world were written by + the successful class, by the affirming and advancing class, who utter + what tens of thousands feel though they cannot say.” + +Emerson’s advice is that we should read famous books, but that we +should not approach them as “classics,” but with the same familiarity +with which we read the daily newspaper. Plato’s Socrates was not a +dignified literary person. We can know him just as we know a shrewd +Yankee farmer. He may be to the reader a character whose oddity +delights us. + + “He was plain as a Quaker in habit and speech, affected low + phrases and illustrations from cocks and quails, soup-pans, + and sycamore-spoons, grooms and farriers, and unnamable + offices,--especially if he talked with any superfine person. He had + a Franklin-like wisdom. Thus, he showed one who was afraid to go on + foot to Olympia, that it was no more than his daily walk within doors, + if continuously extended would easily reach. + + “Plain old uncle as he was, with his great ears,--an immense + talker,--the rumour ran, that on one or two occasions, in the war with + Bœotia, he had shown a determination which had covered the retreat + of a troupe; and there was some story that, under cover of folly, he + had, in the city government, when one day he chanced to hold a seat + there, evinced a courage in opposing singly the popular voice, which + had well-nigh ruined him. He is very poor, but then he is hardy as + a soldier, and can live on a few olives; usually, in the strictest + sense, on bread and water, except when entertained by his friends. + His necessary expenses were exceedingly small, and no one else could + live as he did. He wore no under garment; his upper garment was the + same for summer and winter; and he went barefooted; and it is said + that, to procure the pleasure, which he loves, of talking at his ease + all day with the most elegant and cultivated young men, he will + now and then return to his shop and carve statues, good or bad, for + sale. However that be, it is certain that he had grown to delight in + nothing else than this conversation; and that, under his hypocritical + pretense of knowing nothing, he attacks and brings down all the fine + speakers, all the fine philosophers of Athens, whether natives, or + strangers from Asia Minor and the islands. Nobody can refuse to talk + with him, he is so honest, and really curious to know; a man who was + willingly confuted if he did not speak the truth, and who willingly + confuted others asserting what was false; and not less pleased when + confuted than when confuting; for he thought not any evil happened to + men of such magnitude as false opinion respecting the just and unjust. + A pitiless disputant, who knows nothing, but the bounds of whose + conquering intelligence no man had ever reached; whose temper was + imperturbable; whose dreadful logic was always leisurely and sportive; + so careless and ignorant as to disarm the wariest and draw them in + the pleasantest manner into horrible doubts and confusion. But he + always knew the way out; knew it, yet would not tell it. No escape; + he drives them to terrible choices by his dilemmas, and tosses the + Hippiases and Gorgiases, with their grand reputations, as a boy tosses + his balls. The tyrannous realist!--Meno has discoursed a thousand + times at length on virtue before many companies and very well, as it + appeared to him; but, at this moment, he cannot even tell what it + is,--this cramp-fish of a Socrates has so bewitched him. + + “This hard-headed humourist, whose strange conceits, drollery and + _bonhommie_ diverted the young patricians, whilst the rumour of his + sayings and quibbles gets abroad every day, turns out, in the sequel, + to have a probity as invincible as his logic, and to be either insane, + or, at least, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his religion.” + +In like manner Shakespeare is not to be thought of in terms of mere +literature. We forget the technicalities of his art. “He was a full man +who liked to talk.” + + “Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism on Shakespeare + valuable that does not rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is + falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think as highly as these + critics of his dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was + a full man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images, + which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand. Had he been less + we should have had to consider how well he filled his place, how good + a dramatist he was,--and he is the best in the world. But it turns + out that what he has to say is of that weight as to withdraw some + attention from the vehicle; and he is like some saint whose history is + to be rendered into all languages, into verse and prose, into songs + and pictures, and cut up into proverbs, so that the occasion which + gave the saint’s meaning the form of a conversation, or of a prayer, + or of a code of laws, is immaterial compared with the universality of + its application. So it fares with the wise Shakespeare and his book + of life. He wrote the airs for all our modern music; he wrote the + text of modern life; the text of manners; he drew the man of England + and Europe; the father of the man in America; he drew the man, and + described the day, and what is done in it; he read the hearts of men + and women, their probity and their second thought and wiles; the wiles + of innocence, and the transitions by which virtues and vices slide + into their contraries; he could divide the mother’s part from the + father’s part in the face of the child, or draw the fine demarcations + of freedom and of fate; he knew the laws of repression which make the + police of nature; and all the sweets and all the terrors of human lot + lay in his mind as truly but as softly as the landscape lies on the + eye. And the importance of this wisdom of life sinks the form, as of + Drama or Epic, out of notice. ’Tis like making a question concerning + the paper on which a king’s message is written. + + “Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors, as he + is out of the crowd.” + +With this conception of literature Emerson did not accept the doctrine +of those realists who think that the highest praise of a literary +work is that it gives an exact transcript of actual life. We all are +surrounded by actuality, we do not need to have some one reproduce for +us what we have every day an opportunity to see for ourselves. What the +man of genius does is to allow us to become acquainted with the working +of his own mind. And the reader must make sure that it is the kind of +mind that is worth knowing. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +EMERSON’S HISTORIC SENSE + + “_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 become + superficial and pedantic. When a thought of Plato becomes a thought to + me, when a truth that fired the soul of Pindar fires me, time is no + more._” + + +A critic has declared that Emerson was lacking in the “historic +sense.” By this he means that Emerson had no aptitude for historical +investigation as it has been developed by modern scholars. He could +never have been an historian like Lord Acton, seeking to get at the +exact truth in regard to all the events of past periods of time. +He was incapable of the fierce industry with which Thomas Carlyle +investigated the records of long dead Hohenzollerns. One Hohenzollern +would have been enough for Emerson. He had no taste for antiquarian +research. + +But to say that a man is without the historic sense is like accusing +him of a lack of the sense of humor. This latter accusation usually +means little more than there is a difference in the taste for jokes. + +Instead of saying that Emerson lacked the historic sense, it would be +better to inquire as to that which was characteristic in his attitude +to history. Only when we sympathize with that can we obtain any benefit +from him. + +There are two ways of looking at human history. One may fix his mind +on the differences between one period and another, or he may be more +profoundly interested in the identities which he recognizes. + +In the former case, what is seen is a succession of events and +personages each having its little day and passing away forever. Each +is different from the other, and it is the business of the historian +to note those differences. He is the stage manager careful about the +entrances and the exits of the actors, and about the way the lights are +arranged for each scene. There are distinctly marked periods of time, +each with its beginning, middle and end. This is one way of looking at +history. + +Another way is that of the philosopher who is interested primarily not +in persons or events, but in the forces of which they are the temporary +manifestations. He perceives not so much the differences as the +identities. This was Emerson’s habitual point of view. He did not care +for the dead past. So much of it as was really dead he would decently +bury. But that part of it which was alive he would incorporate into the +living present and treat as of contemporary interest. It was here that +Emerson’s historic sense manifested itself. + +In the volume called “Representative Men” Emerson illustrates his +conception of History. “The search after the great men,” he says, “is +the dream of youth, and the most serious occupation of manhood.” And +yet when we have found the great man, we find a person very much like +ourselves. We agree with him, which means that he expresses thoughts +that are very like our own. We are conscious of the fact that he +reveals what is in us as well as in him. Plato, Shakespeare, Montaigne, +Napoleon, were representative men. There were millions of persons who +had the same qualities, but in less degree. The fact that they have +been appreciated proves their kinship to the multitude. + + “The genius of humanity is the right point of view in history. The + qualities abide; the men who exhibit them have no more nor less, and + pass away; the qualities remain in another brow. No experience is + more familiar. Once you saw phœnixes, now they are gone; the world + is not therefore disenchanted. The vessels on which you read sacred + emblems turn out to be common pottery; but the sense of the picture + is sacred, and you may still read them, transferred to the walls of + the world. For a time our teachers serve us personally, as meters or + milestones of progress. Once they were angels of knowledge and their + figures touched the sky. Then we drew near, saw their means, culture + and limits and they yielded their place to other geniuses. Happy if + a few names remain so high that we have not been able to read them + nearer, and age and comparison have not robbed them of a ray. But at + last we shall cease to look in men for completeness and shall content + ourselves with their social and delegated quality. All that respects + the individual is temporary and prospective like the individual + himself, who is ascending out of his limits into a catholic existence. + We have never come at the true and best benefit of any genius so long + as we believe him an original force.” + +Here Emerson differed radically from his friend Carlyle. To Carlyle the +hero was an original force; Luther was more than the Reformation of the +sixteenth century. Cromwell and Frederick the Great were treated as if +they were creatures who were unlike the Englishmen and the Prussians +whom they governed. To Emerson they were men who best represented the +ideals of their countrymen. + +To my mind Emerson’s most brilliant bit of historical criticism is +contained in his Essay on Napoleon. Many have been the descriptions of +the life and character of the great Corsican adventurer. Emerson makes +us see the kind of man Napoleon was. “Bonaparte was the idol of common +men because he had in transcendent degree the qualities and powers of +common men.” + +He was “a man of stone and iron, capable of sitting on horseback +sixteen or seventeen hours, of going many days together without rest +or food, except by snatches, and with the speed and spring of a tiger +in action; a man not embarrassed by any scruples; compact, instant, +selfish, prudent, and of a perception which did not suffer itself to be +balked or misled by any pretences of others, or any superstition or any +heat or haste of his own. + + “I call Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle classes of modern + society; of the throng who filled the markets, shops, counting + houses, manufactories, ships of the modern world, aiming to be rich. + He was the agitator, the destroyer of prescription, the internal + improver, the liberal, the radical, the inventor of means, the opener + of doors and markets, the subverter of monopoly and abuse.” + +Napoleon’s change from the young revolutionist to the Emperor was +nothing strange. “The democrat is the young conservative. The +aristocrat is the democrat, ripe and gone to seed--because both parties +stand on the one ground of the supreme value of property, which one +endeavors to get and the other to keep. Bonaparte may be said to +represent the whole history of this party, its youth and its age, yes +and with poetic justice its fate in his own.” + +Turn from the Essay on Napoleon to that on Power. In the description +of the village tavern keeper you will recognize a poor relation +of the great Napoleon. There is the same combination of force and +unscrupulousness. + + “I knew a burly Bonaface who for many years kept a public house in one + of our rural capitals. He was a knave whom the town could ill spare. + He was a social vascular creature, grasping and selfish. There is no + crime which he did not or could not commit. But he made good friends + of the selectmen, served them with his best chop when they supped at + his house, and also with his honor the Judge he was very cordial, + grasping his hand. He introduced all the fiends, male and female, into + the town, and united in his person the functions of bully, incendiary, + swindler, barkeeper and burglar. He girdled the trees, and cut off + the horses’ tails of the temperance people in the night. He led the + ‘rummies’ and radicals in the town meeting. Meanwhile, he was civil, + fat and easy in his house, and precisely the most public-spirited + citizen. He was active in getting the roads repaired and planted + with shade trees; he subscribed for the fountains, the gas and the + telegraph, he introduced the new horse rake, the new scraper, the + baby-jumper and what not that Connecticut sends to the admiring + citizens.” + +Schoolboys dispute the question--Was the career of Napoleon Bonaparte +beneficial to Europe? The same question arises in regard to the +public-spirited and disreputable tavern keeper. Emerson as an historian +would not attempt to give a final verdict. He would insist on having +the facts on both sides presented. And then he would judge the value of +the facts by their correspondence with his own experience. + + “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 the image to some + reality in our secret experience, or we shall learn nothing rightly.” + +One experiences history as he experiences religion. There are a few +passions that are common to all men. They are the keys to all story +of the past. It is mere pedantry to explain the worship and the +achievements of other ages as if they were mysteries. After all they +are nothing strange. We have felt the same impulses. + + “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 labour 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 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 vigour 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 + fervour, 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 Æsop, of Homer, of Hafiz, of Ariosto, of Chaucer, of Scott, and + verifies them with his own head and hands.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +PEACE AND WAR + + “_I do not like to speak to the Peace Society, if so I am to restrain + myself in so extreme a privilege as the use of sword and bullet. For + the peace of a man who has forsworn the use of the bullet seems to me + not peace, but a canting impotence; but with knife and bullet in my + hands, if I from greater bravery and honor cast them aside, then I + know the glory of peace._” + + +In 1838 Emerson delivered a lecture on War which has furnished many +excellent texts for thoroughgoing pacifists. And yet in the war for +the preservation of the Union, he threw himself unreservedly into +the conflict. At first sight, it might seem that under the stress of +circumstances he had given up his earlier convictions. + +Yet the words which I have placed at the head of this chapter were +written at the time he was making his plea for universal peace. +Emerson’s position was practically unchanged by the events of his +time. He was a believer in peace, but it was the peace of the strong +man armed. It was peace established and maintained by men who were not +to be coerced. Having demonstrated that they were able to take care of +themselves they could lay aside their arms and trust to moral force. +His lecture was in praise of the glory of peace which he believed in +the end would supersede the meretricious glories of war. + + “War educates the senses, calls into action the will, perfects the + physical constitution, brings men into such swift and close collision + at critical moments that man measures man. On its own scale, on + the virtues it lives, it endures no counterfeit, but shakes the + whole society until every atom falls into the place its specific + gravity assigns it. What does war, beginning from the lowest races + and reaching up to man, signify? Is it not manifest that it covers + a great and beneficent principle which nature has deeply at heart? + What is that principle? It is self help. Nature implants with life + the instinct of self help, perpetual struggle to be, to resist + opposition, to attain to freedom and the security of a permanent, + self-defended being, and to each creature these objects are made so + dear that it risks its life continually in the struggles for these + ends.” + +But because war has had such uses in the past, does it follow that it +must continue indefinitely? + + “At a certain stage of his progress a man fights if he be of sound + mind and body. At a higher stage he makes no offensive demonstration, + but he is alert to repel injury and of an unconquerable heart. At a + still higher he comes into the region of holiness, passion has passed + from him, his warlike nature is all converted into an active medicinal + principle, he sacrifices himself, and accepts with alacrity wearisome + tasks of denial and charity; but being attacked he bears it and turns + the other cheek, as one engaged throughout his being, no longer to the + service of the individual but to the common soul of man.” + +There are passages in praise of non-resistance which sound very much +like the words of doctrinaire pacifists. But it is the non-resistance +of the soldier who with arms in his hand will not use them to revenge a +private wrong. + + “The cause of peace is not the cause of cowardice. If peace is sought + to be defended or preserved for the safety of the luxurious and the + timid, it is a shame and the peace will be base. War is better and + the peace will be broken. If peace is to be maintained, it must be + by brave men who have come up to the same height of the hero, namely + the will to carry their life in their hands, and have gone a step + beyond the hero and will not seek another man’s life--men who by + their intellectual insight or else by their moral education attained + such perception of their own intrinsic worth that they do not think + property or their own body a sufficient good to be saved by such + dereliction of principle as treating a man like a sheep.” + +War is barbarous, peace has possibilities of heroic achievement, but +are these not circumstances under which the good man must fight? In +1838 Emerson answered, “A wise man will never impawn his future being +and action, and decide before-hand what he shall do in a given extreme +event. Nature and God will instruct him what to do.” + +When the extreme event came he had no hesitancy. In 1862 he wrote, +“It is wonderful to see the unseasonable senility of the Peace Party +through all its masks, blinding their eyes to the main feature of the +war, namely its inevitableness.” + +Heroism is after all the same whether in peace or in war. It is +the deliberate choice of the highest service possible under the +circumstances. He thinks of the soldier who when war is inevitable +obeys the call of duty as one who is sacrificed to make peace possible. + + “But best befriended of the God + He who, in evil times, + Warned by an inward voice, + Heeds not the darkness and the dread, + Biding by his rule and choice, + Feeling only the fiery thread + Leading over heroic ground, + Walled with mortal terror round, + To the aim which him allures, + And the sweet heaven his deed secures. + Peril around, all else appalling, + Cannon in front and leaden rain, + Him duty through the clarion calling + To the van called not in vain. + + “Stainless soldier on the walls, + Knowing this,--and knows no more,-- + Whoso fights, and whoso falls, + Justice triumphs ever more.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE FORTUNES OF THE POOR + + “_The whole interest of history lies in the fortunes of the poor._” + + +To the present-day reader Emerson is least satisfactory when he touches +upon what we call the problem of poverty. We have in mind the condition +of thousands of persons who through no fault of their own are condemned +to live in city slums. They are, we believe, victims of social +misadjustment. They can be redeemed only by social effort. + +When we hear Emerson saying that the whole interest of history lies in +the fortunes of the poor, we expect to hear him say something bearing +upon our problem. How does he propose to abolish poverty? We are +disappointed. Poverty, he tells us, is not so bad after all. Indeed it +has many advantages. Sometimes he rises into a strain that reminds us +of Saint Francis of Assisi. + +We can only understand Emerson and Saint Francis when we define the +terms they used. When Francis sang the praises of my lady Poverty he +was not thinking of the condition of those who lived in the hideous +slums of great cities. He had in mind the poverty of the Italian +peasants whose fortunes he was glad to share. They were poor in this +world’s goods, but rich in spiritual resources. They lived in the open +air, they listened to the song of birds, and they were happy in human +companionship. + +The poverty which Emerson praised was the poverty of the well-born +New England youth. It was a life without luxury, but with endless +opportunity. There was a stimulating of necessity acting upon natural +ambition. The poor man’s son could aspire to any station in society. +The way was open to him. If he had health he was to be congratulated as +one of the children of good fortune. This was a theme of which he never +tired. + + “The poor man’s son is educated. There is many a humble house in every + city, in every town, where talent and taste, and sometimes genius, + dwell with poverty and labour. Who has not seen, and who can see + unmoved, under a low roof, the eager, blushing boys discharging as + they can their household chores, and hastening into the sitting-room + to the study of to-morrow’s merciless lesson, yet stealing time + to read one chapter more of the novel hardly smuggled into the + tolerance of father and mother,--atoning for the same by some pages + of Plutarch or Goldsmith; the warm sympathy with which they kindle + each other in school-yard, or in barn or woodshed, with scraps of + poetry or song, with phrases of the last oration, or mimicry of the + orator; the youthful criticism, on Sunday, of the sermons; the school + declamation faithfully rehearsed at home, sometimes to the fatigue, + sometimes to the admiration of sisters; the first solitary joys of + literary vanity, when the translation or the theme has been completed, + sitting alone near the top of the house; the cautious comparison of + the attractive advertisement of the arrival of Macready, Booth, or + Kemble, or of the discourse of a well-known speaker, with the expense + of the entertainment; the affectionate delight with which they greet + the return of each one after the early separations which school or + business require; the foresight with which, during such absences, they + hive the honey which opportunity offers, for the ear and imagination + of the others; and the unrestrained glee with which they disburden + themselves of their early mental treasures when the holidays bring + them again together? What is the hoop that holds them staunch? It is + the iron band of poverty, of necessity, of austerity, which, excluding + them from the sensual enjoyments which make other boys too early old, + has directed their activity in safe and right channels, and made + them, despite themselves, reverers of the grand, the beautiful, and + the good. Ah! short-sighted students of books, of Nature, and of man! + too happy, could they know their advantages. They pine for freedom + from that mild parental yoke; they sigh for fine clothes, for rides, + for the theater, and premature freedom and dissipation, which others + possess. Woe to them, if their wishes were crowned! The angels that + dwell with them, and are weaving laurels of life for their youthful + brows, are Toil, and Want, and Truth, and Mutual Faith.” + +In the last fifty years there have been vast social changes. Even in +America we have begun to feel the pressure of population on the means +of subsistence. The young man can not obtain a farm by the simple +device of going West. And yet America is still a land of opportunity. +It is still “a poor man’s country” even though the poor man has to be +more alert than formerly in order to win success. + +It is still true that inherited wealth is not necessary for the +attainment of the most desirable things. One may be born poor and yet +be a child of good fortune. + + “In America, the necessity of clearing the forest, laying out town and + street, and building every house and barn and fence, then church and + town-house, exhausted such means as the Pilgrims brought, and made the + whole population poor; and the like necessity is still found in each + new settlement in the Territories. These needs gave their character + to the public debates in every village and state. I have been often + impressed at our country town-meetings with the accumulated virility, + in each village, of five or six or eight or ten men, who speak so + well, and so easily handle the affairs of the town. I often hear the + business of a little town (with which I am most familiar) discussed + with a clearness and thoroughness, and with a generosity, too, that + would have satisfied me had it been in one of the larger capitals. I + am sure each one of my readers has a parallel experience. And every + one knows that in every town or city is always to be found a certain + number of public-spirited men, who perform, unpaid, a great amount + of hard work in the interest of the churches, of schools, of public + grounds, works of taste and refinement. And as in civil duties, so in + social power and duties. Our gentlemen of the old school, that is, + of the school of Washington, Adams, and Hamilton, were bred after + English types, and that style of breeding furnished fine examples in + the last generation; but, though some of us have seen such, I doubt + they are all gone. But nature is not poorer to-day. With all our + haste, and slipshod ways, and flippant self-assertion, I have seen + examples of new grace and power in address that honour the country. It + was my fortune not long ago, with my eyes directed on this subject, to + fall in with an American to be proud of. I said never was such force, + good meaning, good sense, good action, combined with such domestic + lovely behaviour, such modesty and persistent preference for others. + Wherever he moved he was the benefactor. It is of course that he + should ride well, shoot well, sail well, keep house well, administer + affairs well, but he was the best talker, also, in the company; what + with a perpetual practical wisdom, with an eye always to the working + of the thing, what with the multitude and distinction of his facts + (and one detected continually that he had a hand in everything that + has been done), and in the temperance with which he parried all + offence, and opened the eyes of the person he talked with without + contradicting him. Yet I said to myself, How little this man suspects, + with his sympathy for men and his respect for lettered and scientific + people, that he is not likely, in any company, to meet a man superior + to himself. And I think this is a good country, that can bear such a + creature as he is.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE CUTTING EDGE + + “_It (courage) gives the cutting edge to every profession._” + + +The virtue which Emerson insisted upon as essential was courage. In the +ruder contacts of life it is common enough, but it is needed equally in +time of peace. + + “There is a courage of the cabinet as well as a courage of the field, + a courage of manners in private assemblies that enables one man to + speak masterly to a hostile company whilst another man who can easily + face a cannon’s mouth does not open his own. + + “There is the courage of the merchant in dealing with his trade, by + which dangerous turns of affairs are met and prevailed over. Merchants + recognize as much gallantry, well judged too, in the conduct of a + wise and upright man of business in difficult times, as soldiers in a + soldier. + + “There is a courage in the treatment of every art by a master in + architecture, in sculpture, in painting and in poetry, cheering the + mind of spectator or receiver as by true strokes of genius, which yet + no wise implies the presence of physical valor in the artist. This + is the courage of genius in every kind. A certain quantity of power + belongs to a certain quantity of faculty. The beautiful voice in + church goes sounding on, and covers up in its volume, as in a cloak, + all the defects in the choir. The singers I observe all yield to it, + and so the fair singer indulges her instinct, _and dares and dares + because she knows she can_.” + +There could not be a more perfect illustration of the kind of courage +which Emerson admired than the voice of the singer directed by a sure +sense of power. It does not domineer and yet it dominates. + +Emerson felt that the America of his day exhibited courage in many +directions. It faced the material problems with an indomitable energy. +But he felt a lack of the cutting edge in dealing with intellectual +problems. The American scholars seemed to him tame-spirited. They were +not sure of themselves, and were followers rather than leaders. + +In his oration before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard in 1837, he +made a bold attack on the education of the day and ended with a plea +for the courage of the intellect. The scholar must develop a heroism of +his own. + + “In self trust are all the virtues comprehended. Free should + the scholar be,--free and brave. Free even to the definition of + freedom--without any hindrance which does not arise from his own + constitution. Brave; for fear is a thing which a scholar by his very + function puts behind him. Fear always springs from ignorance.” + +He does not belong to a protected class. + + “If he seeks a temporary peace by the diversion of his thoughts from + politics or vexed questions, hiding his head like an ostrich in the + flowering bushes, peeping into microscopes and turning rhymes, as a + boy whistles to keep his courage up. So is the danger a danger still; + so is the fear worse. Manlike let him turn and face it. Let him look + into its eye, and search its nature, inspect its origin--see the + whelping of this lion--which lies no great way back; he will then find + in himself a perfect comprehension of its nature and extent; he will + have made his hands meet on the other side, and can henceforth defy + it and pass on superior. The world is his who can see through its + pretension. What deafness, what stone-blind custom, what overgrown + error you behold is there only by sufferance,--by your sufferance. See + it to be a lie and you have already dealt it a mortal blow.” + +In 1876, in an address at the University of Virginia, Emerson returns +to the same theme. + + “The scholar is the right hero. He is brave because he sees the + omnipotence of that which inspires him. Is there only one courage and + one warfare? I cannot manage sword and rifle: can I not therefore + be brave? I thought there were as many courages as men. Is an armed + man the only hero? Is a man only the breach of a gun or the haft + of a bowie knife? Men of thought fail in fighting down malignity, + because they wear other armor than their own. Let them decline + henceforward foreign methods and foreign courages. Let them do that + which they _can_ do. Let them fight by their strength and not by their + weakness.... + + “We have many revivals of religion. We have had once what was called + a revival of Letters. I wish to see a revival of the human mind. To + see men’s sense of duty extend to the cherishing and use of their + intellectual powers: their religion should go with their thought and + hallow it.” + +In his celebrated address to the Cambridge Divinity School, Emerson +insisted on a spiritual courage which makes of religion an independent +force. + + “Let me admonish you, first of all, to go alone, to refuse the good + models, even those which are sacred to the imagination of men, and + dare to love God without mediator or veil. Friends enough you will + find who will hold up to your emulation, Wesleys and Oberlins, saints + and prophets. Thank God for these good men, but say, ‘I also am a + man.’... + + “Yourself a new-born bard of the Holy Ghost,--cast behind you all + conformity, and acquaint men at first hand with Deity. Look to it + first only, that fashion, custom, authority, pleasure and money are + nothing to you,--are not bandages over your eyes, that you cannot + see,--but live with the privilege of the immeasurable mind. + + “Let us study the grand strokes of rectitude; a bold benevolence, an + independence of friends, so that not the unjust wishes of those who + love us shall impair our freedom, but we shall resist for truth’s sake + the freest flow of kindness, and appeal to sympathies far in advance; + and what is the highest form in which we know this beautiful element, + that it is taken for granted, that the right, the brave, the generous + step will be taken by it, and nobody thinks of commending it.” + +In the lines entitled “Worship” he returns to the same theme. The +essence of real worship is spiritual courage. It is the “sword of the +spirit,” and it has a cutting edge. + + “This is he, who, felled by foes, + Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: + He to captivity was sold, + But him no prison-bars would hold: + Though they sealed him in a rock, + Mountain chains he can unlock: + Thrown to lions for their meat, + The crouching lion kissed his feet: + Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, + But arched o’er him an honouring vault. + This is he men miscall Fate, + Threading dark ways, arriving late, + But ever coming in time to crown + The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. + He is the oldest, and best known, + More near than aught thou call’st thy own, + Yet, greeted in another’s eyes, + Disconcerts with glad surprise. + This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, + Floods with blessings unawares. + Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line + Severing rightly his from thine, + Which is human, which divine.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TERMINUS + + “_It is time to be old, + To take in sail:-- + The god of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds, + And said: ‘No more! + No farther shoot + Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root, + Fancy departs: no more invent; + Contract thy firmament + To compass of a tent. + There’s not enough for this and that, + Make thy option which of two; + Economize the failing river, + Not the less revere the Giver, + Leave the many and hold the few. + Timely wise accept the terms, + Soften the fall with wary foot; + A little while + Still plan and smile, + And, fault of novel germs, + Mature the unfallen fruit. + Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, + Bad husbands of their fires, + Who, when they gave thee breath, + Failed to bequeath + The needful sinew stark as once, + The Baresark marrow to thy bones, + But left a legacy of ebbing veins, + Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- + Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, + Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.’_ + + “_As the bird trims her to the gale, + I trim myself to the storm of time, + I man the rudder, reef the sail, + Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: + ‘Lowly faithful, banish fear, + Right onward drive unharmed; + The port, well worth the cruise, is near, + And every wave is charmed.’_” + + +To the man of action the approach of age is dreaded because it means +defeat. The strong man conscious of failing powers yields to one +stronger than himself because younger. + +To Emerson, as a man thinking, the great weakness of age was to be +found in its lack of faith in ideals. He saw old men who accepted +the actual and denied the possibility of what they had not been able +to achieve. They praised the past time and looked askance at the +threatening future. From the timidities of age which are often mistaken +for wisdom, he asked to be delivered, and his prayer was granted. + +He had lived through a transition period in thought. Almost all his +contemporaries, including those who were younger than himself, have +left in their later utterances a record of disillusion. Carlyle, +Ruskin, Matthew Arnold and Tennyson were inclined to sing dirges over +a beautiful age of faith which had vanished before the advance of +science. James Russell Lowell, with all his sturdy Americanism yielded +to the same impulse. There was an acknowledgment of spiritual defeat. +It might be expressed in gallant language, but the meaning was none the +less clear. + +To Emerson this so-called disillusion was only another illusion. He +speaks of the man “who during all his years of health has planted +himself on the side of progress, but who as soon as he begins to die, +checks his forward play, calls in his troops, and becomes conservative. +All conservatives are such from personal defects. They can only, like +invalids, act on the defensive.” + +One thing he resolved to do, to “obey the voice at eve obeyed at +prime.” In this he was eminently successful. + +Doctor Holmes speaks delicately and discriminatingly of “the decline +of Emerson’s working faculties.” That exactly describes what happened. +The working faculties gradually failed, memory became less clear, but +spiritual insight and loyalty to youthful ideals remained to the last. + +While yet a young man, he had written down certain resolutions by which +he wished to guide his life. Seldom has any one been more consistent in +following his principles. + + “Thou shalt not profess that which thou dost not believe. + + “Thou shalt not heed the voice of man when it agrees not with the + voice of God in thine own soul. + + “Thou shalt study and obey the laws of the Universe, and they will be + thy fellow servants. + + “Nature shall be to thee as a symbol. The life of the soul in + conscious union with the Infinite shall be for thee the only real + existence. + + “Teach men that each generation begins the world afresh, in perfect + freedom; that the present is not the prisoner of the past, but that + to-day holds captive all the yesterdays, to judge, to accept, to + reject their teachings, as they are shown by its own morning sun. + + “To thy fellow countrymen thou shalt preach the gospel of the New + World, that here, here in America, is the home of man, that here is + the promise of a new and more excellent social state than history has + recorded.” + +As to death, he had always been unafraid. When it came at the end of +his seventy-ninth year, it found him in the mood that was habitual to +him. He had long ago learned the lesson. + + “Teach me your mood, O patient stars! + Who climb each night the ancient sky, + Leaving on space no shade, no scars, + No trace of age, no fear to die.” + + +THE END + + + + +BOOKS BY + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + +From the list of HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + +His Authorized Publishers + + +EMERSON’S JOURNALS: + + Edited by Edward W. Emerson and Waldo Emerson Forbes. _A chronological + record of Emerson’s life from 1820 to 1876, published in a style + uniform with the Centenary Edition of his Works. Complete in ten + volumes, which are sold either separately or as a set._ + + “No more remarkable history of the human intellect in its untrammeled + development has ever been written,” said the _Literary Digest_ of this + intimate record of Emerson’s spiritual and intellectual development. + All Emerson’s nobility of thought and felicity of expression appear at + their best in these volumes, while beyond this they have a deep human + interest as a fresh and living picture of the man and his period. + From every point of view the Journals rank with the best of Emerson’s + writings, and without them his Works are incomplete. + +EMERSON’S WORKS: + + _New Centenary Edition with portraits, biographical sketch, notes + and index. Also published in the Riverside Pocket Edition. Flexible + leather bindings_: + + NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES + ESSAYS: FIRST SERIES + ESSAYS: SECOND SERIES + REPRESENTATIVE MEN + ENGLISH TRAITS + CONDUCT OF LIFE + SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE + LETTERS AND SOCIAL AIMS + POEMS + LECTURES AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES + MISCELLANIES + NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT AND OTHER PAPERS + +For information regarding the format and price of these and of the many +other editions of Emerson’s separate and collected writings, write to + + 4 Park Street HOUGHTON MIFFLIN Boston, Mass. + + + + + Transcriber's Notes: + + Repetitive heading before page 1 has been removed. + + Italics are shown thus: _sloping_. + + Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained. + + Perceived typographical errors have been changed. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78986 *** diff --git a/78986-h/78986-h.htm b/78986-h/78986-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcbafa6 --- /dev/null +++ b/78986-h/78986-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7118 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Ralph Waldo Emerson | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h1 {font-weight: normal; + font-size: 160%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + word-spacing: 0.3em; + } + +h2 {font-weight: normal; + font-size: 130%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + word-spacing: 0.3em; + } + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + + +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 95%; +} + + +.caption {font-size: 80%; + text-align: center;} + + +.xxlarge {font-size: 260%;} +.up {font-size: 160%;} +.xlarge {font-size: 140%;} +.large {font-size: 120%;} +.less {font-size: 90%;} +.med {font-size: 70%;} + +.c {text-align: center;} + +.sp {word-spacing: 0.3em;} + +.lsp {letter-spacing: 0.2em;} + +.sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + +.r {text-align: right; + margin-right: 2em;} + +.dropcap {float: left; width: auto; padding-right: 1px; font-size: 400%; line-height: 80%;} + +.dropcap1 {float: left; width: auto; padding-right: 5px; font-size: 400%; line-height: 80%;} + + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + margin-top:3em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; + border: .3em double gray; + padding: 1em; +} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} +.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: -1em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} +.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0em;} +.poetry .indent11 {text-indent: 2.5em;} +.poetry .indent13 {text-indent: 2em;} +.poetry .indent14 {text-indent: 4em;} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78986 ***</div> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover"> +</div> + + +<h1>RALPH WALDO EMERSON</h1> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="c sp xlarge">VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES</p> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">Published and in Preparation</p> + +<p class="c sp"><i>Edited by</i> <span class="smcap">Will D. Howe</span></p> + +<hr class="r5"> + +<table> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Arnold</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Stuart P. Sherman</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Browning</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>William Lyon Phelps</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Burns</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>William Allan Neilson</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Carlyle</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Bliss Perry</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dante</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Alfred M. Brooks</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Defoe</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>William P. Trent</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dickens</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Richard Burton</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Emerson</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Samuel McChord Crothers</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hawthorne</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>George Edward Woodberry</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Bible</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>George Hodges</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Ibsen</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Archibald Henderson</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Lamb</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Will D. Howe</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Stevenson</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Richard A. Rice</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Raymond Macdonald Alden</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Whitman</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Brand Whitlock</i></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>C. T. Winchester</i></td></tr> + +</table> + + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt="ralph"> +<p class="caption"></p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/fig2.jpg" alt="signature"> +<p class="caption">RW Emerson</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="c xxlarge sp"> +Ralph Waldo Emerson</p> + +<p class="c up sp"> +HOW TO KNOW HIM</p> + +<p class="c p4"> +<i>By</i></p> + +<p class="c xlarge sp"> +Samuel McChord Crothers</p> + +<p class="c less sp p2"> +<i>Author of</i></p> + +<p class="c med sp"> +THE GENTLE READER, THE PARDONER’S WALLET<br> +OLIVER WENDEL HOLMES AND HIS FELLOW BOARDERS<br> +ETC., ETC.</p> + +<p class="c sp lsp less p4"> +<i>WITH PORTRAIT</i></p> + +<p class="c large sp p4"> +INDIANAPOLIS<br> +THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br> +PUBLISHERS +</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="c sp"> +<span class="smcap">Copyright 1921</span><br> +<span class="smcap">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></p> + +<p class="c p6"> +<i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> + +<p class="c p6 sans med sp"> +PRESS OF<br> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br> +BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br> +BROOKLYN, N. Y. +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="c xlarge">INTRODUCTORY</p> +</div> + + +<p>The mind of Emerson was a searchlight revealing +not itself but the various objects on which +it successively turned. An intense and narrow +beam of light would shoot through the darkness +and reveal some object. Then it would pick up +another object which would have its brief moment +of visibility. The landscape was never revealed +in any one view.</p> + +<p>The only way to know Emerson is to join him +in his intellectual exercises. In spite of his personal +aloofness I know of no one with whom we +can more readily come to a feeling of intellectual +intimacy. He had no pretensions and no reserves. +In clear sentences he told us what from time to +time he thought. He made no attempt to connect +these thoughts into a coherent system. For any +one else to attempt to do this would be to misrepresent +him.</p> + +<p>In the short chapters which follow I have +treated Emerson as a contemporary rather than +as a writer of the last generation. His thought +is as pertinent to the twentieth century as to the +nineteenth. Indeed I think that in many respects +we may be nearer to him than were those +who first listened to him. The prejudices which +he encountered have largely died away. The problems +over which he was meditating remain.</p> + +<p>I wish to make grateful acknowledgment to +Houghton Mifflin Company for special permission +to make extracts from their authorized and +copyright editions of Emerson’s works. Also to +Doctor Edward Emerson for the use of his edition +of his father’s journals.</p> + +<p class="r large">S. M. M.</p> + + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="c xlarge">CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><span class="med">CHAPTER</span></td> + <td class="tdl"></td> + <td class="tdr"><span class="med">PAGE</span></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c1">I</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Approach to Emerson</span></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c2">II</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Discriminating Optimist</span></td> + <td class="tdr">16</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c3">III</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Opener of Doors</span></td> + <td class="tdr">29</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c4">IV</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Parish of Young Men</span></td> + <td class="tdr">40</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c5">V</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Spent the Day at Essex Junction</span></td> + <td class="tdr">47</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c6">VI</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Friendship without Intimacy</span></td> + <td class="tdr">56</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c7">VII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">I Hate This Shallow Americanism</span></td> + <td class="tdr">68</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c8">VIII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Poet</span></td> + <td class="tdr">75</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c9">IX</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Poetry of Science</span></td> + <td class="tdr">95</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c10">X</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Piety</span></td> + <td class="tdr">108</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c11">XI</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thou Shalt Not Preach</span></td> + <td class="tdr">116</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c12">XII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lure of the West</span></td> + <td class="tdr">122</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c13">XIII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Emerson’s Elusive Smile</span></td> + <td class="tdr">133</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c14">XIV</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Quiet Revolutionist</span></td> + <td class="tdr">142</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c15">XV</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Meditations on Politics</span></td> + <td class="tdr">158</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c16">XVI</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Candid Friend of England</span></td> + <td class="tdr">172</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c17">XVII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Among His Books</span></td> + <td class="tdr">181</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c18">XVIII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Emerson’s Historic Sense</span></td> + <td class="tdr">197</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c19">XIX</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Peace and War</span></td> + <td class="tdr">209</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c20">XX</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fortunes of the Poor</span></td> + <td class="tdr">215</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c21">XXI</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Cutting Edge</span></td> + <td class="tdr">223</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#c22">XXII</a></td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Terminus</span></td> + <td class="tdr">230</td></tr> + +</table> + +<hr class="full"> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="c xxlarge" id="c1">EMERSON</p> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="c sp">THE APPROACH TO EMERSON</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>But, critic, spare thy vanity,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Nor show thy pompous parts,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>To vex with odious subtlety</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The cheerer of men’s hearts.</i>”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>O Emerson writes of the Persian poet Saadi +who “sat in the sun” and with smiling lips +uttered his thoughts to whosoever chose to listen. +He had nothing to prove, nothing to apologize +for, nothing to lament.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Denounce who will, who will deny,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And pile the hills to scale the sky;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Let theist, atheist, pantheist,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Define and wrangle how they list,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>We are so used to wrangling and defining, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> +building systems of thought, and with odious subtlety +criticizing other men’s systems, that we +hardly know how to get along without these intellectual +exercises. What is there to say about +a literary man or a philosopher who cares for +none of these things?</p> + +<p>To become acquainted with Emerson we must +discard any conventional idea of the literary man +or the philosopher. We must not become too +much interested in his works. We must be genuinely +interested in the things he was thinking +about, so as to find joy in comparing notes. He +was not a man of letters in the sense of a maker +of books, and he was careless about the articulation +of his thought, and so he is the despair of +those who try to “place” him.</p> + +<p>There are those who think they can explain a +man of genius by means of painstaking investigation +of the town he lived in, the folks he knew, +the books he read, the party to which he belonged, +and the family into which he was born. A great +deal can be explained in this way, in fact all those +things in which he was like the thousands of other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +persons who were subjected to similar influences. +But what about his genius, which is the one thing +in which he differed from those who were about +him? It happens that it is this difference which +is the matter of vital moment.</p> + +<p>There are indeed great men whose difference +from their contemporaries is in the quantity of +their endowment rather than in its essential quality. +They think and feel as does the average +man, they share his opinions and habits of +thought, only they have everything in greater +abundance. They are representative of the time +in which they lived and we can not think of them +as belonging to any other place or period. This +is perhaps what we mean by a <i>great</i> man. The +term is quantitative.</p> + +<p>But there are others whose genius is essentially +timeless. They owe very little to their immediate +environment. They might have lived anywhere +or at any time, and the substance and manner +of their thinking would have been very much +the same. Ralph Waldo Emerson was of this +order. In one sense he was a typical American,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +more than that he was a New Englander, and his +thought was colored by the experience of the +passing day. But it was only colored. The texture +was not peculiar to America. That he was +born at the beginning of the nineteenth century, +the descendant of a long line of Puritan preachers, +that he was educated at Harvard College, and +became for a time the minister of a Unitarian +Church, that he was interested in what was called +the Transcendental Movement, that he traveled +about the country delivering lyceum lectures, that +he took a worthy part in all sorts of reform movements, +and that he lived in Concord to a good old +age—all these are interesting facts. If we happen +to be interested in Emerson, we like to know +about them. But they do not enable us to know +what manner of man he was, or what gift he may +have for us.</p> + +<p>Indeed, if we take such facts too seriously, we +may obscure the real Emerson, for he certainly +did not take them very seriously, and was rather +absent-minded in regard to them. It was one of +his whimsies to profess a great contempt for foreign<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> +travel. Concord was good enough for him +and he could see all that was most worth seeing +without wandering from the vicinity of the town +house. But this was not because he had any unusual +prejudice for a particular locality, but that +he had means of getting away from it that his +neighbors did not possess. One place is as good +as another to one whose mind is free of the +universe.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s mind was in the most literal sense +cosmopolitan; he was a citizen of the world, as no +mere traveler can become. The globe trotter is +lured on by the expectation of coming to foreign +parts. Emerson did not think of any portion of +the world as foreign. It was all of a piece. +Wherever he happened to be, he was confronted +by the marvel of the whole which manifested itself +in every part. He was like the citizen in a +great metropolis, who leaves to strangers the transitory +joys of sightseeing. He goes about his +own business, and yet he is gladly conscious all +the time that he belongs to the mighty aggregation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span></p> + +<p>In dealing with such a person, the biographer +is always more or less of an intruder. To Emerson +the inner life was much more important than +the events and circumstances of the outer life. +To the inner life as disclosed by himself, we may +go directly. Thus only we know what manner of +man he was. He was describing himself when he +wrote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“There is an external life, which is educated at +school, taught to read, write, cipher, and trade; +taught to grasp all the boy can get, urging him to +put himself forward, to make himself useful and +agreeable in the world, to ride, run, argue, and +contend, unfold his talents, shine, conquer, and +possess.</p> + +<p>“But the inner life sits at home, and does not +learn to do things, nor value these feats at all. +’Tis a quiet, wise perception. It loves truth, because +it is itself real; it loves right, it knows nothing +else; but it makes no progress; was as wise +in our first memory of it as now; is just the same +now in maturity, and hereafter in age, as it was in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +youth. We have grown to manhood and womanhood; +we have powers, connection, children, reputations, +professions: this makes no account of +them all. It lives in the great present; it makes +the present great. This tranquil, well-founded, +wide-seeing soul is no express-rider, no attorney, +no magistrate: it lies in the sun, and broods on the +world. A person of this temper once said to a +man of much activity, ‘I will pardon you that +you do so much, and you me that I do nothing.’ +And Euripides says that ‘Zeus hates busybodies +and those who do too much.’”</p> +</div> + +<p>All this is quite foreign to the mind of the +typical American. It was not characteristic of +the nineteenth century. It is not easy to explain +why Emerson should have turned up when he did.</p> + +<p>If, however, it is necessary for us to “place” +Emerson, and to classify him, it might be as well +to ignore the accident of his birth, and put him +among those with whom his ways of thinking and +speaking would have been most congenial.</p> + +<p>He was a philosopher, not in the modern sense,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +but in the simpler ancient sense of a lover of +wisdom. He belonged in a way with the men +who in Athens liked to walk about in the gardens +discoursing about the nature of the good, the +true, and the beautiful. Perhaps the Greek dialectic +might have wearied his more direct mind. +It would have seemed a too roundabout way of +getting at moral truths.</p> + +<p>I rather think that he would have been more +at home with less sophisticated thinkers, let us +say with the lovers of wisdom in the land of Uz, +who gathered around Job, in his happier days before +Satan mingled with his affairs. It is in the +cool of the evening, and they gather at the gate, +and Job discourses on the pleasant mysteries of +life. And people who had been bearing the heat +and burden of the day, and whose souls were +parched, came for refreshment. In their arid +lives, it was wonderful to meet a man who was +thinking aloud. “My speech dropped upon them, +and they waited for me as for the rain.”</p> + +<p>Such speech comes in sentences that are easily +remembered. In the land of Uz people do not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +get their ideas from books, but from the lips of +a man who has the gift of direct address.</p> + +<p>In process of time scribes gather these scattered +sentences into volumes, and we have collections +of what the Hebrew scholars call Wisdom Literature. +So we have the Proverbs, The Wisdom of +Solomon, and the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach. +They contain the observations and the meditations +of men who had found time for such things. +They are enjoyed by those of kindred temper.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s essays belong to this Wisdom Literature. +They are gnomic, that is to say, they +consist of pregnant sentences. Their arrangement +is a matter largely of accident.</p> + +<p>Had he lived in the land of Uz, Emerson would +have uttered these sentences to a little group at +the city gate, and trusted to their memories for +the preservation of what was of value. Being an +American in the nineteenth century, he jotted +them down in his note-book when they occurred +to him, and then as opportunity offered presented +them to groups of his fellow-citizens, gathered on +winter evenings in poorly ventilated halls. All<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +the way from Massachusetts to Iowa he found his +audience, and gave them freely of his best. Then +acting as his own scribe, he gathered the sentences +together into the form familiar to us.</p> + +<p>To get his general point of view, read the ninth +chapter of Proverbs:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath +hewn out her seven pillars; she hath killed her +beasts; she hath mingled her wine; she hath also +furnished her table. She hath sent forth her +maidens: she crieth upon the highest places of +the city.... Come, eat of my bread, and +drink of the wine which I have mingled.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It is all very simple and natural. Wisdom is +the builder. She builds according to her own +plan, and when the house is furnished, she makes +her feast and sends forth her maidens with the +invitation to her table.</p> + +<p>And the thinker, who is he? He is not the +architect, he did not plan the building. Nor is +he the high priest ordering the sacrifice. He does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +not take himself so solemnly. He is only one of +the invited guests, who has not lost the sense of +wondering curiosity. He can not churlishly sit +down to the feast without being introduced to the +hostess. He wanders about among all the marvels, +seeking her. For, says the son of Sirach, +“It is the chief point of Wisdom to know whose +gift it is.”</p> + +<p>In the nineteenth century Ralph Waldo Emerson +lived a life that was as simple as that of the +antique philosophers. He practised an art which +has been thought to be lost—the art of meditation. +The fruit of his meditations he offered to +all those whom it might concern.</p> + +<p>Emerson was a man thinking. There is no +Emersonian system of philosophy, only an Emersonian +way of looking at things, and that is perfectly +simple. There is a legal phrase, “without +prejudice,” which is used of parties to a controversy, +implying that should the negotiations fail, +nothing that has passed shall be taken advantage +of thereafter. Thus should the defendant offer +<i>without prejudice</i> to pay half the claim, the plaintiff<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +can not consider this offer as an admission of +his having the right to <i>some</i> payment.</p> + +<p>To read the words of Emerson in the spirit in +which they were written, we must remember to +take what he says without prejudice. Each sentence +makes its own appeal, and it is for us to +determine whether it rings true or false. But we +must not hold him responsible for the inferences +which we may draw. He was not uttering +oracles, though the form might sometimes seem +oracular. He aimed to challenge us rather than +to secure docile acceptance of his ideas. He did +not attempt at any one time to state the whole +truth. He preferred to state a half truth in such +a manner that we should be ready to supply the +other half. Instead of avoiding extreme opinions, +he wished to have them confront each other +in the same mind.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“This is true, that other is true. But our geometry +cannot span the extreme points and reconcile +them. What to do? By obeying each thought +frankly, by harping, or if you will, pounding on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> +each string, we learn at last its power. By the +same obedience to others’ thoughts, we learn +theirs and then comes some reasonable hope of +harmonizing them.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The method which he recommended and which +he followed was in the highest degree unsystematic. +It was “the method of taking up in turn +each of the leading topics which belong to our +scheme of human life, and by stating all that is +agreeable to experience on one hand, and doing +the same justice to the opposing facts, the true +limitations will appear. Any excess of emphasis +on one part would be corrected and a just balance +made.”</p> + +<p>In other words, Emerson would never assume +the cool judicial attitude in regard to any vital +question. He would speak as an advocate of the +side which for the moment seemed to him most +important. But he would always reserve the +right to state the other side just as strongly. Not +only did he claim the right to take both sides, but +also to change the subject as often as he liked.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +He believed that there were certain general principles +which were applicable to all the various professions +and callings. One who was in Milton’s +phrase “a skillful considerer of human things” +had a right to express his opinions, for in spite +of all the modern division of labor, life is still +made up of a few simple elements.</p> + +<p>In the following chapters I have made no attempt +to harmonize the views of Emerson. That +would only obscure the sharp outlines of each +separate view. One who would know Emerson +must not read his word with the docility of a +mere disciple. He must rather take it as a game +and match his wits against a quick antagonist.</p> + +<p>It is the mental attitude which that unconventional +sixteenth-century preacher, Bishop Hugh +Latimer, sought to inspire in his congregation. In +his famous Sermon on the Cards, he challenged +his congregation to play a game of cards, which +in those days was called “Triumph.”</p> + +<p>Quoth Latimer: “Whereas, ye are wont to celebrate +Christmas in playing at cards, I intend by +God’s grace to deal unto you Christ’s cards. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +game we shall play at shall be called the triumph +(trump) which if it be well played, he that dealeth +shall win, the players shall likewise win, and +the standers and lookers on shall do the same, inasmuch +that there is no man that is willing to +play at this Triumph with these cards but that +they shall all be winners, and no losers. Let +therefore every Christian man and woman play +at these cards, that they may have and obtain the +triumph; you must mark also that the triumph +must apply to fetch home with him all the other +cards whatsoever suit they be of. Now then +take ye this first card which must appear and be +shewed to you as followeth.”</p> + +<p>In some such way Emerson invites us to join +in his favorite recreation. It is the free play of +thought in which “he that dealeth shall win, the +players shall likewise win and the standers and +lookers on shall do the same.”</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c2">CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">A DISCRIMINATING OPTIMIST</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>I am a willow of the wilderness,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Loving the wind that bent me.</i>”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE of the most familiar terms of reproach +in these days is “Victorian.” It is used by +clever literary persons who have rebelled against +the standards of their immediate predecessors. +It implies a certain smugness and self-satisfaction +which is very irritating to persons who are conscious +of the cruel realities of this unfinished +world. The Victorians are supposed to have been +incorrigible optimists who mistook the Fool’s +Paradise in which they lived for the final resting +place of humanity. They were worshipers of the +respectabilities, and were content with the cant of +liberalism as their fathers had been content with +the cant of Toryism.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, we are taught that it is our +duty to face the grimmest realities, and not to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +flinch when we see something that is ugly and +threatening. We must see how the other half +lives, and we must free ourselves from amiable +delusions.</p> + +<p>In turning from the work of our painfully sincere +realists to Emerson, the first impression is +that we are going back to that discredited state +of mind, the early Victorian optimism. For +Emerson faces the existing world with a smiling +face. He takes for granted that there is a friendliness +in its laws, and that the ultimate reality is +not to be feared. He has a frank predilection for +beauty and does not feel it his duty to feed his +imagination on what is ugly and unwholesome. +He is always glad to be alive, and glad to find so +many other creatures alive at the same time. +Sometimes he has a too debonair way of making +light of the evils that are encountered by earnest +people.</p> + +<p>But those who look upon the optimism of +Emerson as a part of the conventionalism of his +time are, I think, superficial in their judgments. +In the first place, he was not a Victorian, but an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> +American, who was not under the spell of the +good queen and her court. No one was less disposed +to imitate the literary conventions then +dominant in England. He was no more a Victorian +than was Abraham Lincoln. There was +nothing smug in his optimism. He was not an +apologist for the existing state of things, nor interested +in proving that this is the best of all +possible worlds. He did not try to make himself +agreeable by calling evil good. He recognized the +existence of an enormous number of bad and +cruel things. “Nature as we know her is no +saint.”</p> + +<p>He taught that nature does not coddle us, nor +provide ready-made houses or clothes. She leaves +us to make these things for ourselves. And the +process of experiment is never an easy one. It is +a long and tedious way by which we travel toward +truth. Nature does not tell us what is good for +us; to discover this is part of our experience.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I compared notes with one of my friends who +expects everything of the Universe and is disappointed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>and I found that I began at the other +extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full +of thanks for moderate blessings.”</p> +</div> + +<p>So far from denying or seeking to hide the +darker and more painful aspects of the world, he +admitted them and placed them where they belong, +<i>at the beginning</i>. They belong to the realm +of chaos and night.</p> + +<p>But the outstanding fact is that there has been +a gradual emergence from chaos. The existence +of man as a reasoning creature becomes more +wonderful as we think of the odds against it. No +good thing can be had without effort.</p> + +<p>But the real question is, “Is the effort worth +while?” You may say that it is not. You do not +know whether or not you shall succeed, and therefore +you will not try.</p> + +<p>Emerson declares that the effort is most gloriously +worth while. It reveals the joy of creation.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“A man is a golden impossibility. Power keeps +quite another road than the turnpike of choice +and will, namely, the subterranean and invisible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +tunnels and channels of life. Life is a series of +surprises and would not be worth taking and +keeping if it were not.... Nature hates calculators, +her methods are saltatory and impulsive.... +The mind goes antagonizing on, and never +prospers but by fits. We thrive on casualties.... +Every man is an impossibility till he is +born, everything is impossible till we see it a +success.”</p> +</div> + +<p>At this point it would be well to lay down +Emerson’s essay on Experience and do a little +meditating on the words, “the mind goes antagonizing +on.”</p> + +<p>Here is a philosophy that goes behind the old +dispute between the optimist and the pessimist. +The ordinary optimist tries to prove that there is +no real antagonism between the facts of nature +and the ideals of the human soul. Everything is +exquisitely fitted to produce happiness. The pessimist +denies this and insists on the flagrant opposition +between what is and what ought to be. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +arranges a deadly parallel between the world of +the ideals and the world of hard reality.</p> + +<p>Emerson answers that there is an antagonism. +The human spirit must not be bullied by that +which lies beneath it. It must assert its sovereignty, +and in its resistance it makes the discovery +of its power. It goes “antagonizing on.” +That is the way of the conqueror.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The essence of tragedy does not seem to me +to lie in any list of particular evils. After we +have enumerated famine, fever, inaptitude, mutilation, +rack, madness and loss of friends, we have +not yet included the proper tragic element, which +is Terror, and which does not respect definite +evils but indefinite; an ominous spirit which +haunts the afternoon and night, idleness and solitude.”</p> +</div> + +<p>A low haggard spirit sits by our side, “casting +the fashion of uncertain evils, a sinister presentiment, +a power of the imagination to disclose +things orderly and cheerful and show them in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +startling array. Hark, what sounds on the night +wind? the cry of murder in that friendly house, +see those marks of stamping feet, of hidden riot. +The whisper overhead, the detected glance, the +glare of malignity, ungrounded fears, suspicions, +half knowledge and mistakes, darken the brow +and chill the heart of man. And accordingly it +is natures not clear, nor of quick and steady perceptions, +but imperfect characters from which +something is hidden that all others see, that suffer +most from these causes. In those persons who +move the profoundest pity, tragedy seems to consist +in temperament, not in events. There are +people who have an appetite for grief; pleasure +is not strong enough, and they crave pain, Mithridatic +stomachs which must be fed on poisoned +bread, natures so downed that no prosperity +can soothe their ragged and dishevelled desolation. +They mishear and misbelieve, they suspect +and dread. They handle every nettle, and tread +on every snake in the meadow.”</p> + +<p>It is here that Emerson made his stand. It is +not necessary for us to apologize for facts or to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +attempt to vindicate Eternal Providence. Events +come and we must face them. But the Terror +we must not yield to, this we can overcome. +There is a health of the spirit which may be cultivated +and which makes us immune to evil influences.</p> + +<p>The optimism of Emerson was not to be expressed +in the phrase, “looking at the bright side +of things.” That is the lazy man’s optimism. +There is a homelier phrase, “making the best of +it.” Let the circumstances be what they may, the +brave man accepts them resolved to make the best +of them. And the surprise is that when he puts +all his strength into the task, the result is something +better than he had planned. Even when +worst has come to worst, the hero turns upon the +hostile powers and finds the Best which he has +worshiped afar now realized in his own will.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Trembler, do not whine and chide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Art thou not also real?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Why shouldst thou stoop to poor excuse;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turn on the accuser roundly, say,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Here am I, here will I abide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forever to myself soothfast.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The most complete expression of Emerson’s +discriminating optimism can be found in his essay +on Fate. Here he states the argument of the +pessimist in the strongest terms. There are forces +at work which bring pain and loss. There are +laws which we can not control. There are tragedies +which are inevitable. But the good man +confronts the evil fate. Emerson believed that +the result of that conflict was the creation of a +higher good than had before been perceived. The +struggle with Fate produced power.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Thus we trace Fate, in matter, mind, and +morals—in race, in retardations of strata, and in +thought and character as well. It is everywhere +bound or limitation. But Fate has its lord; limitation +its limits; is different seen from above and +from below; from within and from without. For, +though Fate is immense, so is power, which is the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +other fact in the dual world, immense. If Fate +follows and limits power, power attends and antagonizes +Fate. We must respect Fate as natural +history, but there is more than natural history. +For who and what is this criticism that pries into +the matter? Man is not order of nature, sack +and sack, belly and members, link in a chain, nor +any ignominious baggage, but a stupendous antagonism, +a dragging together of the poles of +the universe. He betrays his relation to what is +below him—thick-skulled, small-brained, fishy, +quadrumanous—quadruped ill-disguised, hardly +escaped into biped, and has paid for the new +powers by loss of some of the old ones. But the +lightning which explodes and fashions planets, +maker of planet and suns, is in him. On one side, +elemental order, sandstone and granite, rock-ledges, +peat-bog, forest, sea and shore; and, on +the other part, thought, the spirit which composes +and decomposes nature—here they are, side by +side, God and devil, mind and matter, king and +conspirator, belt and spasm, riding peacefully together +in the eye and brain of every man.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> +<p>“Nor can he blink the free-will. To hazard +the contradiction—freedom is necessary. If you +please to plant yourself on the side of Fate, and +say, Fate is all; then we say, a part of Fate is the +freedom of man. For ever wells up the impulse +of choosing and acting in the soul. Intellect annuls +Fate. So far as a man thinks, he is free. +And though nothing is more disgusting than the +crowing about liberty by slaves, as most men are, +and the flippant mistaking for freedom of some +paper preamble like a ‘Declaration of Independence,’ +or the statute right to vote, by those who +have never dared to think or to act, yet it is +wholesome to man to look not at Fate, but the +other way: the practical view is the other. His +sound relation to these facts is to use and command, +not to cringe to them. ‘Look not on Nature, +for her name is fatal,’ said the oracle. The +too much contemplation of these limits induces +meanness. They who talk much of destiny, their +birth-star, etc., are in a lower dangerous plane, +and invite the evils they fear.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> +<p>“I cited the instinctive and heroic races as +proud believers in Destiny. They conspire with +it; a loving resignation is with the event. But +the dogma makes a different impression, when +it is held by the weak and lazy. ’Tis weak and +vicious people who cast the blame on Fate. The +right use of Fate is to bring up our conduct to +the loftiness of nature. Rude and invincible except +by themselves are the elements. So let man +be. Let him empty his breast of his windy conceits, +and show his lordship by manners and deeds +on the scale of nature. Let him hold his purpose +as with the tug of gravitation. No power, no +persuasion, no bribe, shall make him give up his +point. A man ought to compare advantageously +with a river, an oak, or a mountain. He shall +have not less the flow, the expansion, and the resistance +of these.</p> + +<p>“’Tis the best use of Fate to teach a fatal courage. +Go face the fire at sea, or the cholera in +your friend’s house, or the burglar in your own, +or what danger lies in the way of duty, knowing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +you are guarded by the cherubim of Destiny. If +you believe in Fate to your harm, believe it, at +least, for your good.</p> + +<p>“For, if Fate is so prevailing, man also is part +of it, and can confront Fate with Fate.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c3">CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE OPENER OF DOORS</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>Be an opener of doors for such as come after +thee and do not try to make the Universe a blind +alley.</i>”—<span class="smcap">Emerson’s Journal</span> (1841).</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE are certain minds which have exercised +a vast influence over the thought of +the world, as constructors of intellectual systems. +Their ambition has been to reduce all things to +a formula. They become masters of existing +knowledge and arrange it in orderly fashion. Thus +Thomas Aquinas summed up the thought of the +middle ages in a solid theology to be received by +all who came after him. John Calvin, with lawyer-like +logic, did the same thing for sixteenth-century +Protestantism. Herbert Spencer, with +prodigious industry, gathered an immense number +of facts and attempted to bring them all into +an agreement with his own scientific formula.</p> + +<p>Up to a certain point the system-maker is a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +helper to all those who would live a reasonable +intellectual life. He shows us where to put our +facts and to a certain degree how to use them. +The difficulty comes when new facts are discovered +which do not fit into the system, or when in +the course of our intellectual development we +come upon a fresh point of view.</p> + +<p>Then the system becomes a blind alley. We +are led into it by a perfectly logical process, but +there is no logical way out of it. The mind goes +round and round and is conscious of the futility +of its own effort. The universe is narrowed to +the dimensions of a rigid creed. The system now +shuts out more of reality than it explains.</p> + +<p>It is when we become conscious of the dangers +of making the universe a blind alley and becoming +entrapped in rigid forms that we appreciate +the function of philosophers like William James +and Bergson. They are emancipators of the intellect. +In their keen criticism of dogmatic systems +they show us a way out. Reality, they assure +us, is something vaster than any definition +of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + +<p>Emerson belonged to this little company of +emancipators, and he went about his business in +a very simple and yet effective way. He attacked +the assumption that what is usually called consistency +is a virtue. No saying of his is more +often quoted, and more generally misunderstood:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little +minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers +and divines. With consistency a great +soul has 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 everything you +said to-day.”</p> +</div> + +<p>That may be made to seem like a plea for careless +and irresponsible ways of thinking and speaking. +What standard are we to have by which +to test our mental processes? I have heard the +words quoted as if they offered an excuse for intellectual +lawlessness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> + +<p>We approach Emerson’s serious meaning only +when we emphasize the adjective. It is a <i>foolish</i> +consistency which is the hobgoblin of little minds. +The fundamental question is “<i>consistency with +what?</i>” The little mind is thinking not of reality +but of its own previous utterances. When an +opinion is to be expressed, it says, “This must +be made consistent with what I said yesterday. +Let me see! What did I say yesterday?” Then, +with solemn conscientiousness, yesterday’s statement +is repeated and there is felt the satisfaction +which comes with duty done.</p> + +<p>But what if to-day’s fact is really different +from that of yesterday, and can not be expressed +accurately by the same phrase? This possibility +the little mind does not entertain. It will not +allow itself to be contradicted, and so the process +goes on which St. Paul describes, “they measuring +themselves by themselves, and comparing +themselves among themselves, are not wise.”</p> + +<p>Emerson’s real plea is for consistency. But +we must be consistent not with a form of words<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +which we have adopted, but with a living reality +which we encounter day by day.</p> + +<p>What have you seen to-day? What have you +done? What new aspect of the universe has become +clear to you? What are the facts revealed +in your present consciousness? These are the +questions that are asked of a person who is using +his mind. And his answers are valuable only as +they are simple and direct.</p> + +<p>In a court of justice this simplicity is required. +The witness who is trying to make his answers +consistent with one another and with a preconceived +theory is sure to come to grief. The cross-questioner +will discover flaws in the evidence. +The only safe course is to tell the facts as they occurred.</p> + +<p>Most of our intellectual confusion comes from +the attempts to arrange our opinions according +to an artificial order. The catechism is arranged +in advance of experience. The questions follow +one another in logical order, and each question +has its appropriate answer. It is all very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +satisfactory until the answers are sharply challenged. +How do we happen to know so much? +How are we able to answer so glibly?</p> + +<p>To Emerson the chief value of a catechism lay +in the questions, not in the answers. That the +deepest and most persistent questions have no satisfactory +answers did not depress him. It only +proved that both the mind that asks and the universe +which delays the answer are greater than we +thought. Their meaning can not be expressed in +any form of words. He hears the Sphinx saying +to the Soul:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Thou art the unanswered question;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Couldst see thy proper eye,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Alway it asketh, asketh;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And each answer is a lie.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So take thy quest through nature,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">It through thousand natures ply;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ask on, thou clothed eternity;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Time is the false reply.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The joy of the follower of Truth and Beauty +is wonderfully expressed in the little poem called +“Forerunners.” We are out-of-doors, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +air is bracing, and the distant hills are alluring. +What does it matter that we do not catch up with +our “happy guides”? It is enough that we are +free to follow. Let others sing of the satisfactions +of achievement. Emerson is satisfied with +a life that is a continual quest.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Long I followed happy guides,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I could never reach their sides;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their step is forth, and, ere the day</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Breaks up their leaguer, and away.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Keen my sense, my heart was young,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Right good-will my sinews strung,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But no speed of mine avails</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To hunt upon their shining trails.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On and away, their hasting feet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Make the morning proud and sweet;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Flowers they strew—I catch the scent;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or tone of silver instrument</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Leaves on the wind melodious trace;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet I could never see their face.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On eastern hills I see their smokes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mixed with mist by distant lochs.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I met many travellers</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who the road had surely kept;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They saw not my fine revellers,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">These had crossed them while they slept.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some had heard their fair report,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the country or the court.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fleetest couriers alive</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Never yet could once arrive,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As they went or they returned,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At the house where these sojourned.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sometimes their strong speed they slacken,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though they are not overtaken;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In sleep their jubilant troop is near,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I tuneful voices overhear;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It may be in wood or waste,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At unawares ’tis come and past.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their near camp my spirit knows</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By signs gracious as rainbows.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I thenceforward, and long after,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Listen for their harp-like laughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And carry in my heart, for days,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Peace that hallows rudest ways.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It is not merely the poetic imagination which +opens the doors into an enchanted country where +one may wander endlessly. The sober reason has +also an emancipatory power. There are realities +which lie beyond the limits which the dogmatist +defines. They may not be logically justified but +they are nevertheless a part of the order of the +universe. When we cease to dogmatize we become +conscious of an order more wonderful than +that which we had imagined possible. Things +exist side by side which we had supposed to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +absolutely incompatible. We can not logically +reconcile them, but there they are.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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 +encyclopedia 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.</p> + +<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +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.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Along with Emerson’s insistence on an absolute +freedom in thinking we must remember his emphasis +on the principle of identity which he discovers +everywhere. The universe, he continually +tells us is not a blind alley, neither is it a mere +welter of conflicting forces. It is marvelously +complicated, but touch it at any point and you will +find it consistent with itself. Could we understand +one part of it we would have the key to all +mysteries.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The universe is represented in every one of +its particles. Everything in nature contains all +the powers of nature. Everything 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c4">CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE PARISH OF YOUNG MEN</p> + +<p class="c"> +“<i>My parish is young men inquiring their way.</i>” +</p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">E</span>MERSON’S parish did not include all +young men. Indeed he was very ill at ease +with the typical “young person.” And there +are many anecdotes which indicate that the young +person shared the embarrassment. The gregariousness +of youth with its tumultuous mass movements +were rather appalling to one of his temperament. +Nor was he fitted for the difficult rôle +of spiritual adviser.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s widely scattered parish was made +up of another kind of young men. They were +young men who were not seeking to find out <i>his</i> +way, but their own. He encouraged them in it. +That made them his debtors for life.</p> + +<p>These parishioners of his could not possibly be +gathered into one congregation. They formed no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +cult or party. Each was so absorbed in his own +special endeavor that he had little time to make +the acquaintance of his fellow parishioner, but +each in the formative period of his life had received +the stimulus he most needed. He had been +bewildered by the conflicting counsels of his elders. +Each counsellor had said, “Be like me.” +Then one clear voice had suggested, “Why not be +yourself?”</p> + +<p>The suggestion was so unexpected and yet so +reasonable that it was acted upon. The young +man found himself, which is the one discovery +that counts.</p> + +<p>America prides itself on being the land of the +free. We have had many political emancipators, +but the roll of intellectual emancipators is short. +Having dethroned kings, we live under the fear +of public opinion. The aggregate mind tyrannizes +over the individual intellect. There is a deadly +average which it is not considered safe for one +to pass.</p> + +<p>To his parish of young men Emerson was always +preaching that the world is in dire need of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +men with fresh insight who are not satisfied with +things as they are. The “average man” should +not be content with the average attainment. He +has within him powers which rightly used could +lift him far above his present condition. He is, +and of right ought to be, a free and independent +soul. A decent respect for the opinion of the +world demands that he should declare his independence +in unmistakable terms.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“What strikes us in the fine genius is that +which belongs of right to every one. A man +should know himself for a necessary actor. A +link was wanting between two craving parts of +nature, and he was hurled into being as the bridge +over that yawning need, the mediator betwixt two +else unmarriageable facts. His two parents held +each of one of the wants, and the union of foreign +constitutions in him enables him to do gladly +and gracefully what the assembled human race +could not have sufficed to do. He knows his materials; +he applies himself to his work; he can not +read, or think, or look, but he unites the hitherto<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +separated strands—into a perfect cord. The +thoughts he delights to utter are the reason of his +incarnation. Is it for him to account himself +cheap and superfluous, or to linger by the wayside +for opportunities? Did he not come into being +because something must be done which he and +no other is and does? If only he <i>sees</i>, the world +will be visible enough. He need not study where +to stand, nor to put things in favorable lights; in +him is the light, from him all things are illuminated +to their centre. What patron shall he ask +for employment and reward? Hereto was he +born, to deliver the thought of his heart from the +universe to the universe, to do an office which +nature could not forego, nor he be discharged +from rendering, and then immerge again into +the holy silence and eternity out of which as a +man he arose. God is rich, and many more men +than one he harbours in his bosom, biding their +time and the needs and the beauty of all. Is not +this the theory of every man’s genius or faculty? +Why then goest thou as some Boswell or listening +worshipper to this saint or to that? That is the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +only lese-majesty. Here art thou with whom so +long the universe travailed in labor; darest thou +think meanly of thyself whom the stalwart Fate +brought forth to unite his ragged sides, to shoot +the gulf, to reconcile the irreconcilable?”</p> +</div> + +<p>As for the chill wisdom of age with its timid +counsels, let the young man defy it. Length of +days does not bring wisdom unless it is accompanied +by a power of spiritual rejuvenation, and +then it becomes the wisdom of perpetual youthfulness.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> +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.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The reader will observe that Emerson in the +midst of his praise of the spirit of youth gives a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> +sly dig at one of the foibles of his parishioners. +There is a quality of bumptiousness which is +often found in early life. Emerson treats it as +a kind of premature senility. “Whilst we converse +with what is above us we do not grow old.” +Conversely the person who cannot look up religiously +to something above his present attainments +had aged rapidly. A person may be a dotard while +yet in the twenties. This was a sobering thought +not unfrequently presented to the parish of young +men.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c5">CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">SPENT THE DAY AT ESSEX JUNCTION</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>August 16, 1868. Came home last night from +Vermont with Ellen. Stopped at Middlebury on the +11th, Tuesday, and read my discourse on Greatness, +and the good work and influence of heroic scholars. +On Wednesday spent the day at Essex Junction, +and traversed the banks and much of the bed of the +Winooski river, much admiring the falls, and the +noble mountain peaks of Mansfield and Camel’s +Hump (which there appears to be the highest), and +the view of the Adirondacks across the lake.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE intent on becoming intimate with Emerson +might well postpone reading the +Oversoul, till he had meditated on the text, +“Spent the Day at Essex Junction.” Perhaps no +junction point in all New England has been the +innocent cause of more vituperation than Essex +Junction. Here, for more than a generation, impatient +people have alighted and waited for trains +which were not arranged for their convenience. +To the commercial traveler, Essex Junction represents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +a sheer waste of time. To the summer +tourist it means a postponement of enjoyment. +It is a place on the way to somewhere else.</p> + +<p>But to Emerson, Essex Junction was not conceived +of as a point of departure until the hour +came when he must actually depart. This was +not till evening. In the meantime, he was living +in Essex Junction rather than merely passing +through it. There was no hurry, so that he had +ample time to enjoy the banks of the Winooski +river and the view of the distant mountains.</p> + +<p>Emerson was on the way to Mount Mansfield, +at which he arrived in due time. The next morning +at the Mountain Hotel “a man went through +the house ringing a loud bell and shouting ‘Sunrise,’ +and everybody dressed in haste and went +down to the piazza.” Emerson joined the eager +procession and had his look with the rest of them. +“After many sharp looks at the heavens and +earth, we descended to breakfast. I found in this +company many agreeable people.”</p> + +<p>In this recital you have a glimpse of his philosophy +of life. Essex Junction, Mount Mansfield<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +and the troop of fellow-boarders who +snatched a hasty sunrise on the way to breakfast +were not all alike. In fact, they were quite +different. But they were all equally real. The +contemplation of them absorbed successive moments +of his conscious life. Each for a little +while occupied the foreground of his mind and +became the representative of the cosmos. Each +in its place and in its time was interesting. When +it came to the question which was the most interesting, +he would let them fight it out among +themselves.</p> + +<p>This was the philosophy of the Mountain and +the Squirrel.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I am not so large as you,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You are not so small as I</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And not half so spry.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>That talents differ is the fact on which we must +agree before there can be any toleration or appreciation. +Most of us have a bad habit of taking +a personal preference and elevating it into a universal +standard of value. Each new object is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +weighed in the balance and found wanting. We +say, this is not that, and therefore it is not worth +our attention. The word “discrimination” takes +on a hostile meaning. We are likely to say “discriminate +<i>against</i>.” The word “criticize” has +also a suggestion of unfriendliness, for it is concerned +with the perception of differences.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s habitual point of view was that of +appreciative discrimination. This is not that, of +course not; it is quite different—that is what +makes it interesting. Even where the tubs look +alike, it is pleasant to consider that each stands on +its own bottom.</p> + +<p>What is the most important place in all the +world? For you it is the place where you actually +are at this moment. This is the only point +from which at this particular time the universe +is visible to you. If you are truly alive, you do +not need a man with a bell to summon you to the +sunrise. The day has its clear call.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The inevitable morning</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>Finds them who in cellars be</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And be sure that all-loving Nature</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Will smile in a factory.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yon ridge of purple landscape,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Yon sky beneath the walls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hold all the hidden wonders</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In their scanty intervals.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>There is a curious restlessness which is often +mistaken for idealism. Not finding satisfaction +in our real environment, we are filled with the +desire to be somewhere else. When this restlessness +becomes chronic, there is “that driven feeling” +which transforms the pursuit of happiness +into a hurried flight from unhappiness. Even +our holidays become nerve-destroying tasks, as +with jaded minds we are carried about to the +places where we wait for sensations that do not +come. And with our eyes on our watches, we +know that we must hurry if we are not to miss +the next sight that we have paid for.</p> + +<p>Palestine was not a tourist country in the days +when the author of Ecclesiastes wrote of the various +vanities he had seen under the sun; else he +might have added a lamentation over the futility +of an empty mind going about in search of culture.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> +This is a vanity I have seen. I have seen +a rich, foolish man who came to a city strange +and old, and that had a great history. Yet did +he not seek to know what that history was, nor +did he save an hour for quiet meditation on what +he saw. He spent much gold to come to the +place where the city was, and when he was there +he worried over the delay in getting away. And +that foolish rich man remembered nothing of the +city except a dinner which was not so good as he +might have had at home.</p> + +<p>Because he found so much to interest him at +home Emerson takes a whimsical pleasure in +speaking against foreign travel as a means of culture. +But he evidently had in mind the excessive +value that was in his day put upon Europe +and its traditions.</p> + +<p>His disparagement of travel did not arise from +any incuriosity. He had an eager desire to see all +the world. But he was like a small boy who, having +learned that the procession is to pass by his +own house, takes his position on his own door<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +step. Why should he go away when by staying +at home he is sure to see the show?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There are times when the medium at a seance excuses +herself for her inability to put the sitter in +communication with departed spirits. She does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +not know what is the matter, but “the conditions +are not right.”</p> + +<p>Every traveler has experienced a similar difficulty. +He has spent time and money to go to a +famous spot; his body has been transported +but not his soul. There are inhibitions that prevent +imaginative communion with the mighty +past.</p> + +<p>Emerson preferred to be in Essex Junction +when the spiritual conditions were right rather +than in Rome when his mind was not properly +functioning. Essex Junction is a wonderful place +if one happens to be in the mood for seeing it.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c6">CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">FRIENDSHIP WITHOUT INTIMACY</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>There is a strange face in the Freshman class +whom I should like to know very much. He has a +great deal of character in his features and should +be a fast friend or a bitter enemy. His name is +——. I shall endeavor to become better acquainted +with him and wish, if possible, to recall at +a future period the singular sensations which his +presence produced in me</i>.”—<span class="smcap">Journal</span>, 1820.</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">E</span>MERSON was an upper classman, albeit +only seventeen years of age, when he wrote +thus of Martin Gay of Hingham, afterward a +distinguished analytical chemist living in Boston. +Emerson’s son, commenting on this passage, says +that there is no evidence that his father, either in +college or afterward, ever made any advances toward +further acquaintance. It does not appear +that he ever really knew him, yet he was always +interested to hear of him, and was grieved at his +untimely death in 1850. The two men were entirely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +different in their temperaments and interests, +Gay being known by his classmates as “cool +Gay.”</p> + +<p>This capacity for shy admirations for his opposites, +and for friendly interests in people with +whom he would find it difficult to keep up a conversation, +was characteristic of Emerson. He +was sometimes painfully conscious of it as a barrier +which prevented him from really “getting at” +people whom he wished to know. At other times +he defended the attitude that was natural to him, +and so made a virtue of his necessity.</p> + +<p>To most persons, Emerson’s essay on Friendship +is unsatisfactory as an exposition of the subject, +though it is very revealing of the author’s +state of mind. “Friendship,” says Emerson, “like +the immortality of the soul, is too good to be believed.” +And his account of friendship has a fine +aloofness that befits the love for a disembodied +spirit rather than a warm attachment to an imperfect +creature of flesh and blood.</p> + +<p>One of the conditions that Emerson would +make in a treaty of friendship would be that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +neither party should trespass on the personality +of others. It was friendship by “absent treatment.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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, and 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.</p> + +<p>“To my friend I write a letter, and from him +I receive a letter. That seems to you little. It +suffices me.</p> + +<p>“You shall not come nearer to a man by getting +into his house. We see the noble afar off, why +should we intrude?”</p> +</div> + +<p>In all this we feel that Emerson was riding his +high horse. It is a shy man’s way of comforting +himself for something that he unfortunately lacks, +but which he would give anything to possess. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +was, to use Paul’s phrase, glorying in his infirmities. +That which he was praising was not friendship +but sublimated hero-worship, which is quite +a different thing.</p> + +<p>In the privacy of his note-books he treats his +infirmity in quite a different spirit. He laments +the fact that he was not a good mixer. Like so +many New Englanders, it was difficult for him to +establish personal relations.</p> + +<p>At the age of twenty, when looking forward +to the ministry, he makes this self-criticism:</p> + +<p>“Every comparison of myself with my mates +that six or seven, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, +years have made has convinced me that there +exists a signal defect of character which neutralizes +in great part the just influence my talents +ought to have.” He expresses it as the “absence +of common sympathies.” By this he seems to +mean the absence of the material for “small talk.” +“Its bitter fruits are a sore uneasiness in the company +of most men and women, a frigid fear of +offending and jealousy of disrespect, an inability +to lead and an unwillingness to follow the current<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +conversation.... In my frequent humiliation +I am compelled to remember the poor boy +who cried, ‘I told you, father, they would find +me out.’” He sums up his youthful confession, +“What is called a warm heart, I have it not.”</p> + +<p>When he was sixty, he was conscious of the +same limitation. He jotted down in his note-book: +“Barriers of man impassable. They who +should be friends cannot pass into each other. +Friends are fictitious, founded on some momentary +experience. But what we want is consecutiveness.”</p> + +<p>All this is not evidence of lack of a warm heart. +It was rather a lack of an easy way of expressing +what he felt. The chill was not in himself, but +in the atmosphere that was about him. But there +was evidently a personal experience behind this +generalization about society.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Society, like wealth, is good for those who understand +it. It is a foolish waste of time for +those who do not. It seems impossible for any +one to expand in a crowd to his natural dimensions.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +All character seems to fade away from all +the accomplices. Every woman seems suffering +for a chair, and you accuse yourself and commiserate +those you talk to.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There is something delightfully amusing in +Emerson’s analysis of his own failure as a conversationalist.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“It seemed, as I mused in the streets of Boston +on the unpropitious effect of the town on my +humor, that there needs a certain deliberation and +tenacity in the entertainment of a thought—a certain +longanimity to make that confidence and stability +which can meet the demands others make +on us. I am too quick-eyed and unstable. My +thoughts are too short, as they say my sentences +are. I step along from stone to stone over the +Lethe which gurgles around my path, but the +odds are that my companion encounters me just +as I leave one stone, and before my foot has well +reached the other, and down I tumble into Lethe +water. But the man of long wind who receives<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> +his thought with a certain phlegmatic entertainment, +and unites himself to it for the time, as a +sailor to a boat, has a better principle of poise +and is not easily moved from the perpendicular.”</p> +</div> + +<p>With the remarkable group of men who made +Concord famous, Emerson was on terms of familiar +friendship. For Bronson Alcott he cherished +an admiration which seems extravagant. +He loved to walk and talk with the shy poet, +Ellery Channing. Thoreau was for two years an +inmate of Emerson’s house, and the two men +worked in the garden together. In Boston Emerson +was a member of the Saturday Club, where +he continually met Longfellow, Holmes, Agassiz +and the rest.</p> + +<p>Yet he was not a man to shine in such society. +His mind was contemplative, rather than conversational. +He did not care to “hold his own” in +a controversy. Why should he? “Emerson was +a good citizen and a good neighbor with his neighbors, +always went to town meeting and listened +intently to the strong spirits who ruled the discussions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +without taking any part in them himself.”</p> + +<p>The most notable of his friendships was with +Thomas Carlyle. The correspondence between +them continued for many years, and there were +many expressions of esteem. The friendship was +a real one, but the fact that the broad Atlantic +lay between them was a great aid to their good +fellowship. For though the two men liked each +other, they did not like the same things.</p> + +<p>Carlyle threatened to visit America, and we +may be sure that he would not have enjoyed the +visit. Emerson’s cheery faith in the common +man seemed to the testy Scotchman a bit of sentimentalism. +They both believed in hero-worship, +but they did not worship the same heroes. New +England Transcendentalism did not agree with +Carlyle’s temper.</p> + +<p>Emerson sent a copy of the <i>Dial</i> to his friend. +Carlyle writes, “The Dial No. 1 came duly. Of +course I read it with interest; it is the utterance +of what is youngest in your land, pure, etherial +as the voices of the morning! And yet—you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +know me—for me it is <i>too</i> etherial, speculative, +theoretic; all theory becomes more and more confessedly +inadequate, untrue, unsatisfactory, almost +a kind of mocking to me.”</p> + +<p>“Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” And +these tokens of friendship were seldom absent +from the letters that passed between the two. +Carlyle writes of the impression Emerson’s essays +made upon him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“It is a <i>sermon</i> to me as all your deliberate utterances +are; a real <i>word</i> which I feel to be such—alas, +almost or altogether the one such, in a +world all full of jargons, hearsays, echoes and +vain noises which cannot pass with me for <i>words</i>. +This is a praise far beyond any ‘literary’ one; +literary praises are not worth repeating in comparison. +For the rest I have to object still (what +you will call objecting to the Law of Nature) that +we find you a speaker indeed, but as it were a +<i>soliloquizer</i> on the eternal mountain tops only, in +vast solitudes where men and their affairs lie all +hushed in a dim remoteness; and only the <i>man</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +and the stars are visible, whom so fine a fellow +seems he, we could perpetually punch into and say, +‘Why won’t you come and help us then? We +have terrible need of one man like you down +among us! It is cold and vacant up there; nothing +paintable but rainbows and emotions; come +down and you shall do life pictures, passions, +facts—which transcend all thought, and leave it +stuttering and stammering!’ To which he answers +that he won’t, can’t and doesn’t want to (as +the cockneys have it): so I leave him and say, +‘You Western Gymnosophist! Well, we can afford +one man for that, too.’”</p> +</div> + +<p>This is all very well for a friendship carried on +by correspondence. Carlyle thinks of himself as +a man who is dealing with concrete realities, while +Emerson is dealing in remote abstractions.</p> + +<p>But had they lived in the same town with +opportunity to discuss the practical questions of +politics and social welfare, they would have come +into collision. The fact was that Emerson was as +much interested in concrete realities as Carlyle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +but he came to different conclusions in regard to +them. Carlyle believed in government by strong +men, like Frederick the Great and Cromwell. +Democracy was an abomination to him. A statesman +like Lincoln, who thought of himself as an +interpreter of the popular will, was altogether +outside his sympathy. Liberalism of the modern +sort seemed to him utter weakness and muddleheadedness.</p> + +<p>Emerson, though he preferred to write about +principles rather than their immediate applications, +was never in doubt as to which side he was +on. The principles which he preached were the +ones which were being applied by the democratic +reformers of his own day. He believed in the +movements at which Carlyle scoffed. Answering +his friend’s criticism, he says:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“What you say now and heretofore respecting +the remoteness of my writing and thinking from +real life, though I hear substantially the same +criticism made by my countrymen, I do not know +what it means.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> + +<p>Indeed, Emerson’s idea of real life differed so +profoundly from Carlyle’s that their minds seldom +met. To him the laws of the universe were +not only the great realities, but the most intimate +realities. Every person and every action illustrated +them. He believed in the principles of +democracy which Carlyle scorned. These fundamental +differences would have been accentuated +in daily intercourse. The visit of the Scotchman +to New England never took place, and it was well +that it did not; “for,” says Emerson, “the higher +the style we demand of friendship the less easy to +establish it in flesh and blood.”</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c7">CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">I HATE THIS SHALLOW AMERICANISM</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>I hate this shallow Americanism which hopes to +get rich by credits, to get knowledge by raps on midnight +tables, to learn the economy of mind by phrenology, +or skill without study, or mastery without +apprenticeship, or sale of goods through pretending +they will sell, or power through making believe you +are powerful. They think they have got it, but they +have got something else.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap1">A</span> CONTEMPORARY of Emerson was Judge +Haliburton of Nova Scotia, the creator of +Sam Slick. Mr. Slick of Slickville, Connecticut, +was a typical Yankee as seen by neighbors across +the northern border. He was shrewd, enterprising, +inquisitive, good-humored, and in his way religious. +He was an ardent patriot, with his eye on +the main chance. He was good at a bargain, and +still better at an argument in defense of his rectitude +in the transaction. He was no hypocrite, for +he saw no reason to pretend to be something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +which he was not. He was simply a plain American +citizen and he didn’t care who knew it. There +were thousands in Connecticut just as good as he +was. He felt it a privilege to represent the Great +Republic.</p> + +<p>The blatant Americanism of Sam Slick must +be compared with the solid English complacency +of Mr. Podsnap. Both were caricatures of national +failings which were easily recognizable. +Emerson was enough of an American to understand +Sam Slick and to laugh with him as well +as to laugh at him, but he recognized that this +shallow Americanism had its dangers.</p> + +<p>The very ease with which the American could +make a living made him overestimate his own +powers. He took the gifts of nature in a new +continent for rewards for his own merit. Bold +as he was and self-assertive in little things, he +lacked in any standard by which to judge himself. +He was gregarious in his mental habits, +and curiously averse to strenuous intellectual +effort.</p> + +<p>“The timidity of our public opinion is our disease,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +or shall I say <i>the publicness</i> of our opinion, +the absence of private opinion. Good nature is +plentiful but we want justice with heart of steel to +fight down the proud.” America has not produced +a sufficient number of men who will instinctively +throw themselves “on the side of weakness, +of youth, of hope; on the liberal, on the +expansive side, never on the defensive, the conserving, +the timorous, the lock-and-bolt system.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I find no expression in our State papers or +legislative debate in our lyceums or churches, +especially in our newspapers, of a high national +feeling, no lofty counsels that rightfully stir the +blood. I speak of those organs which can be presumed +to speak a popular sense. They recommend +conventional virtues, whatever will earn +and preserve property; always the capitalist, the +college, the church, the hospital, the theater, the +hotel, the road, the ship, the capitalist, whatever +goes to secure, adorn, enlarge these is good; whatever +jeopardizes any of these is damnable.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> + +<p>This description of a familiar kind of Americanism +in 1844 is easily recognizable in 1920. +The shallow reformers are equally familiar.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Many a reformer perishes in the removal of +rubbish, and that makes the offensiveness of this +class. They are partial, they are not equal to the +work they pretend. They lose their way in the +assault on the kingdom of darkness; they expend +all their energy on some accidental evil, and lose +their sanity and power of benefit. It is of little +moment that one or two or twenty errors in our +social system be corrected, but of much that the +man be in his senses.”</p> +</div> + +<p>No foreign critic has ever pointed out more +clearly the faults of the American temperament. +But shallow Americanism, with its boastfulness +and its conventionality, can not blind him to the +ideal America that lies far deeper. It is yet in the +making.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“We cannot look on the freedom of this country, +in connection with its youth, without a presentiment +that here shall laws and institutions +exist on some scale of proportion to the majesty +of nature. To men legislating for the area betwixt +the two oceans, betwixt the snows and the +tropics, somewhat of the grandeur of nature will +infuse itself into the code. A heterogeneous +population crowding on all ships from all corners +of the world to the great gates of North America, +namely, Boston, New York, and New Orleans, +and thence proceeding inward to the prairie and +the mountains, and quickly contributing their +private thought to the public opinion, their toll +to the treasury, and their vote to the election, it +cannot be doubted that the legislation of this +country should become more catholic and cosmopolitan +than that of any other. It seems so +easy for America to inspire and express the most +expansive and humane spirit; new-born, free, +healthful, strong, the land of the labourer, of the +democrat, of the philanthropist, of the believer, +of the saint, she should speak for the human race. +It is the country of the future. Like Washington,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +proverbially ‘the city of magnificent distances,’ +through all its cities, States, and Territories, it is +a country of beginnings, of projects, of designs, +and expectations.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, there is a sublime and friendly +Destiny by which the human race is guided—the +race never dying, the individual never spared—to +results affecting masses and ages. Men are +narrow and selfish, but the Genius or Destiny is +not narrow, but beneficent. It is not discovered +in their calculated and voluntary activity, but in +what befalls, with or without their design.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson believed as much as the politicians of +his day in Manifest Destiny. But he hoped for +the country a destiny greater than that which the +politicians planned. The commercial progress of +the day was something to rejoice in as a part of +a great onward movement. But commercialism +was not the end toward which the nation was +moving.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Our part is plainly not to throw ourselves +across the track, to block improvement, and sit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +till we are stone, but to watch the uprise of successive +mornings, and to conspire with the work +of new days. Government has been a fossil; it +should be a plant. I conceive that the office of +statute law should be to express, and not to impede +the mind of mankind. New thoughts, new +things. Trade was one instrument, but Trade +is also for a time, and must give way to something +broader and better, whose signs are already +dawning in the sky.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c8">CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE POET</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>I am born a poet—of a low class without doubt, +but a poet. That is my nature and vocation. My +singing, to be sure, is very husky and is for the most +part in prose. Still I am a poet in the sense of a perceiver +and dear lover of the harmonies that are in +the soul and in matter, and specially of the correspondence +between them.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">E</span>MERSON’S estimate of his poetical gifts +was given in a letter to his future wife. +When he so clearly points out his limitations, it +seems ungracious to agree with his critical judgment, +but one must do so. He was not a poet +in the sense of a maker of mighty harmonies. He +did not walk like Milton, with his “singing robes” +about him. But he was a poet in the sense of +being a perceiver and dear lover of natural harmonies, +and he made us sharers of his perception.</p> + +<p>His singing voice was certainly very husky. +Only a few of his poems stand the test of being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +read aloud with perfect pleasure. Frequently we +are conscious of a metrical jolt. Not only is the +ear pained by dissonance, but there is a sense that +the poetical inspiration has suddenly given out.</p> + +<p>I am inclined to think that Emerson would +have been happier if he had frankly adopted “free +verse.” For though he was a poet, he was not a +natural rhymster. In “Merlin” he makes a declaration +of independence which would please our +new poets.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Great is the art</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Great be the manners, of the bard.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall not his brain encumber</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With the coil of rhythm and number.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>And then he weakens his declaration by adding:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“But, leaving rule and pale forethought,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall aye climb</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For his rhyme.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The critic is tempted to ask, Why not let the +rhyme go rather than climb for it? Emerson’s +rhymes were often most unhappy, and had the +air of being forced into service.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> + +<p>Read his “May Day.” You will find jingling +rhymes like</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Not for a regiment’s parade,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor evil laws or rulers made,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blue Walden rolls its cannonade.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>We have such lines as these:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Every tree and stem and chink</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gushed with syrup to the brink.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The air stole into the streets of towns,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>After these rhymes that are easy to a fault, we +have others that are difficult: as <i>almanac</i> and +<i>coming-back</i>, <i>Superior Lake</i> and <i>Mackinac</i>, <i>cavaliers</i> +and <i>travelers</i>. Sometimes an obsolete word +is introduced for the sake of an imperfect rhyme:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“They shook the snow from hats and shoon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They put their April raiment on.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>All this needs to be said at the beginning. It +is when full allowance is made for his poetical +lapses that we are prepared to appreciate Emerson’s +real poetical gifts. While he had no power<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +of sustained verbal melody, he has given an unusual +number of perfect lines.</p> + +<p>In “Voluntaries” we have a succession of commonplace +verses, and then come upon the lines +that seemed chiseled by some great artist, austerely +beautiful and true:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“So nigh is grandeur to our dust,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So near is God to man,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When Duty whispers low, Thou must,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Youth replies, I can.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>In “Forerunners” one would not change a +word. There is a gladness of adventure.</p> + +<p>“Each and All,” “The Problem,” “Days,” are +sources of endless delight. In “Two Rivers,” +Emerson expresses melodiously his poetical creed. +He is a perceiver and dear lover of the correspondence +between the outer and the inner worlds. +The little river that runs through Concord is the +symbol of the eternities.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Repeats the music of the rain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sweeter rivers pulsing flit</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through thee, as thou through Concord plain.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Thou in thy narrow bed art pent,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">The stream I love unbounded goes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through flood and sea and firmament,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through light, through life, it forward flows.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>In the longer poems, like “Monadnock” and +“Woodnotes,” there is nothing consecutive. One +might read them as Emerson himself was accustomed +to read, beginning at the last page and +turning back the leaves in search of a rewarding +sentence. But there is a sparkling atmosphere +and a sense of the New England woods and hills.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“’Twas one of the charmed days</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When the genius of God doth flow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wind may alter twenty ways,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A tempest cannot blow.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Emerson is the poet of nature, and it is nature +as revealed in New England. We see the “twilight +parks of beech and pine,” and the purple +berries, the upland pastures, the delicate mosses, +the granite ledges, over which the brooks go tumbling, +the mountain lakes “edged with sand and +grass,” the “damp fields known to bird and fox.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> +Nowhere is it far to the primitive granite, yet the +land is not bare. Even on the ledges “the ropelike +pine roots crosswise grown” give a homelike +invitation. Nature is everywhere friendly, +though there is a trace of austerity about her +welcome.</p> + +<p>But to the poet the outward forms of nature +are but symbols.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent6">“Give me truths,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For I am weary of surfaces,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And die of inanition.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Flashing through woods and mountains and +sky, he sees truths that strengthen and inspire. +What he seeks to express in his poetry is</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">“... the sweet affluence of love and song,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The rich results of the divine consents</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Every poet who has any distinctive quality and +is not merely an imitator of other poets sees +something which he wants to express. This insight +is his real contribution. The skill with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> +which he is able to communicate what he sees is +another matter.</p> + +<p>The poets of the most universal appeal are +those who see what everybody else sees, only +more intensely, and who can tell their story in +words which every one understands. Robert +Burns, Whittier, James Whitcomb Riley, need no +interpreters. They themselves are interpreting +what we have already experienced.</p> + +<p>There are other poets whose endeavor is to +make us see something which, without their help, +we might miss, or at least treat as something unpoetical. +Browning saw a greater complexity in +human conduct and character than we usually recognize, +and he sought to present this complexity +to the imagination as well as to the reason. This +involved a good deal of explanation on his part, +and explanatory remarks are always prose. But +the true Browning lover knows what his poet is +driving at and helps him out when he gets into +difficulties.</p> + +<p>Walt Whitman saw the poetry which is in mere +bulk and the sublimity that is in great bare spaces.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +Let others sing of the finished products of art and +nature; he would celebrate the glory of the imperfect, +the romance of the raw material. To his +mind a catalogue of the most ordinary things was +suggestive. It was the stuff poems are made of. +It was an inventory of the wealth we hold in common. +He repeats the names of American states +and cities as Milton repeated the names of the +places old in story, which in his imagination stood +for all sorts of vague sublimities. If we catch +something of this imaginative enthusiasm for +crude bulk and wide spaces and overflowing vitality, +then we greet Whitman as a great poet. +Otherwise, we make nothing of him. “There are +in the world,” says Paul, “many kinds of voices, +and no voice is without its significance.” But he +adds, if we do not understand the person who +is talking, he is a barbarian to us and we are as +barbarians to him.</p> + +<p>The poetry of Emerson has a quality growing +out of a peculiar way of looking at things. Whitman +saw things in the rough. “Here is what +moves in magnificent masses, careless of particulars.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +Emerson saw the motion of masses, but +he was not careless of particulars. His attention +was fixed not upon the mass but on the particles +of which it was composed. And his quick eye +perceived that these particles had each a motion +of its own, and that the motion was bewilderingly +rapid.</p> + +<p>Our dull eyes see results but not processes. We +talk of the quickness of thought, but we are really +very slow-witted creatures and seldom see what +is going on. The things which we watch and talk +about are really the things which have already +happened, just as we may be looking at a star by +light, which only tells us that it was shining some +centuries ago. Our judgment on what we call +current events is apt to be misleading because it +is not strictly contemporaneous.</p> + +<p>The great illusion is that of arrested motion. +Things seem to us to stand still, which in reality +are whirling about with inconceivable velocity. +Our sciences have demonstrated what our senses +can not perceive, and that which staggers our +imagination.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<p>The astronomer tells us of the way this earthen +ball on which we live goes hurtling through space. +But even the astronomer does not feel the motion. +The chemist tells us of the wild dances of the +molecules. We in a dull way perceive the fact of +growth and decay and attraction and repulsion, +but we do not perceive them as incessantly happening. +When a powder mill is destroyed, we +are startled by the explosion. But of the multitude +of tiny explosions, which result in the opening +of a rose, or the scattering of thistledown, +we are unconscious.</p> + +<p>Now Emerson was profoundly stirred by +thought of the explosive power of nature. Indeed +his world was always exploding. He attempts +to express the sense of these sudden happenings +in his poetry. He is preeminently the +poet of swift motion.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent6">“Hearken! Hearken!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If thou wouldst know the mystic song</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Chanted when the sphere was young.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Aloft, abroad, the pæan swells;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O wise man! hear’st thou half it tells?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">O wise man! hear’st thou the least part?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis the chronicle of art.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the open air it sings</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sweet the genesis of things,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of tendency through endless ages,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of star dust, and star-pilgrimages,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of rounded worlds, of space and time,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of the old flood’s subsiding slime,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of chemic matter, force and form,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of poles and powers, cold, wet and warm:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The rushing metamorphosis</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dissolving all that fixture is,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Melts things that be to things that seem,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And solid nature to a dream.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O, listen to the undersong,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The ever old, the ever young;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, far within the cadent pauses,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The chorus of the ancient Causes!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This was the theme of Emerson’s poetry. It +was the genesis of things as revealed by modern +science and interpreted by the poetic imagination. +He was the poet of the “rushing metamorphosis.”</p> + +<p>It was a world in which there was persistent +force and ever-changing form. The world soul +cries,</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Hearken once more!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I will tell thee the mundane lore.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Older am I than thy numbers wot,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Change I may, but I pass not.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hitherto all things fast abide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And anchored in the tempest ride.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Trenchant Time behooves to hurry</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All to yean and all to bury:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the forms are fugitive,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the substances survive.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>And that calm for which philosophers have +always yearned, how shall we attain it? Not by +standing still, seeking refuge in some venerable +form, but by flinging ourselves into the swift current, +and yielding ourselves to the eternal power.</p> + +<p>It is possible for a man’s thought to keep step +with nature “with triumphant piercing sight,” +seeing the end toward which all things move.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“On him the light of star and moon</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall fall with purer radiance down;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All constellations of the sky</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shed their virtue through his eye,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Him Nature giveth for defence</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His formidable innocence;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The mounting sap, the shells, the sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All spheres, all stones his helpers be.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall never be old</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor his fate shall be foretold;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall meet the speeding year</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Without wailing, without fear.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The Actual is swift, but the Ideal is swifter.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Thee gliding through a sea of form,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Like the lightning through a storm,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Somewhat not to be possessed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Somewhat not to be caressed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No feet so fleet could ever find,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No perfect form could ever bind,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thou eternal fugitive,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hovering over all that live,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Quick and skilful to inspire</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sweet, extravagant desire.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>There are poems of Emerson which we can +make nothing of unless we have happened to +brood over the same problems. There is “Initial, +Dæmonic and Celestial Love.” It is unreadable, +unless one reads between the lines.</p> + +<p>When we ask what it is all about? the answer is +that it is an attempt to follow that “rushing +metamorphosis” that we call love. Under one +name we speak of the attraction of sex which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +man shares with all the animal world, and the +highest and most disinterested affections. Here +is a passion in its beginning sensuous and selfish, +capable of infinite refinement till it becomes +purely spiritual. Between love as a natural impulse +and love as a religious experience there are +innumerable subtle gradations. Emerson’s lines +suggest the swiftness of the transitions.</p> + +<p>At first love is unmoral.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“He is wilful, mutable,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shy, untamed, inscrutable,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Swifter-fashioned than the fairies.</div> + <div class="verse indent11">* * *</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For Cupid goes behind all law.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“There are impulses that are</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Restless, predatory, hasting;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And they pounce on other eyes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As lions on their prey.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And round their circles is writ</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Plainer than the day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Underneath, within, above,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love—love—love—love.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Out of these primitive instincts arise the higher +kinds of love. They do not develop in logical<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> +order. They are rather fierce and sudden passions +which, however, tend toward nobleness.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Man was made of social earth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Child and brother from his birth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tethered by a liquid cord</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of blood through veins of kindred poured.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>There is developed a loyalty to family and +tribe. There come “throbs of a wild religion.” +There is</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Beauty of a richer vein</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Graces of a subtler strain.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>After a time love is drawn to its object, not by +a blind urgency, but a conscious choice. The +lover is open-eyed.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“He doth elect</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The beautiful and fortunate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the sons of intellect,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the souls of ample fate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who the Future’s gate unbar.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>But this love with all its possibilities of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> +chivalry and romance is at heart selfish. It seeks +its own, and scorns all else.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The Dæmons are self-seeking,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their fierce and limitary will</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Draws men to their likeness still.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>There is a love that “delights to build a road,” +but “the Dæmon ever builds a wall.” That impulse +which unites is met by an impulse which +divides. So it happens that</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Ever the Dæmonic love</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is the ancestor of wars.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>But these partial preferences and passions do +not exhaust the meaning of love. There is a +celestial love.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“But God said,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘I will have a purer gift,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There is smoke in the flame.’”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>There is a love that is one with justice and +truth. It is a passion still, but it is a passion for +perfection. It comes with insight of a swifter +kind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Thou must mount for love</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Into vision where all form</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In one only form dissolves.</div> + <div class="verse indent13">* * *</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Pray for a beam</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Out of that sphere,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thee to guide and to redeem.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O, what a load of care and toil,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By lying use bestowed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From his shoulders falls who sees</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The true astronomy.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The love of the one becomes the symbol of +good-will to all.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Not glad, as the low-loving herd,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of self in other still preferred,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But they have heartily designed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The benefit of broad mankind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And they serve men austerely,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">After their own genius, clearly,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Without a false humility;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For this is Love’s nobility,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not to scatter bread and gold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Goods and raiment bought and sold:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But to hold fast his simple sense,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And speak the speech of innocence,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And with hand, and body, and blood,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To make his bosom-counsel good.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For he that feeds men serveth few;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He serves all who dares be true.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> + +<p>In all this Emerson is expressing his philosophy. +But he does it not as a formal teacher, +but as a poet.</p> + +<p>In the “Threnody,” in which he sought comfort +after the death of a dearly loved child, there +is the same sense of the quick transitions between +the physical and the spiritual. He summons his +faltering thought to follow his boy into the vast +regions of the unknown. It is not a void but full +of possibilities of life.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“When frail Nature can no more,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then the Spirit strikes the hour:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My servant Death, with solving rite,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pours finite into infinite.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>The loved form disappears, but the love goes on +in search of its object. Change there must be, but +change does not mean destruction of real values. +Emerson finds strength in the thought that what +is “excellent is permanent.” And that permanence +is not of form but of force.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Wilt thou freeze love’s tidal flow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whose streams through nature circling go?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nail the wild star to its track</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On the half-climbed zodiac?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Light is light which radiates,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blood is blood which circulates,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Life is life which generates,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And many-seeming life is one,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wilt thou transfix and make it none?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Its onward force too starkly pent</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In figure, bone, and lineament?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wilt thou, uncalled, interrogate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Talker! the unreplying Fate?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor see the genius of the whole</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ascendant in the private soul,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beckon it when to go and come,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Self-announced its hour of doom?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fair the soul’s recess and shrine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Magic-built to last a season;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Masterpiece of love benign</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fairer that expansive reason</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whose omen ’tis, and sign.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What rainbows teach, and sunsets show?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Verdict which accumulates</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From lengthening scroll of human fates,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Voice of earth to earth returned,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Prayers of saints that inly burned,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Saying, What is excellent,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As God lives, is permanent;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hearts are dust, hearts’ loves remain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Heart’s love will meet thee again<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Up to his style, and manners of the sky.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not of adamant and gold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Built he heaven stark and cold;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No, but a nest of bending reeds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Flowering grass, and scented weeds;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or like a traveller’s fleeing tent,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or bow above the tempest bent;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Built of tears and sacred flames,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And virtue reaching to its aims;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Built of furtherance and pursuing,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not of spent deeds, but of doing.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Silent rushes the swift Lord</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through ruined systems still restored,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Broadsowing, bleak and void to bless,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Plants with worlds the wilderness;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Waters with tears of ancient sorrow</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">House and tenant go to ground,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lost in God, in Godhead found.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c9">CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE POETRY OF SCIENCE</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>Science always goes abreast with the just elevation +of the man keeping step with religion and metaphysics; +or the state of science is an index of self-knowledge. +Since everything in Nature answers to +a moral power, if any phenomenon remains brute +and dark it is because the corresponding faculty in +the observer is not yet active.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">E</span>MERSON’S idea of the scientific intelligence +keeping step with the moral and spiritual +faculties is an illuminating one. It suggests +to us what happened in the nineteenth century, +and gave rise to so much confusion.</p> + +<p>The orderly progress of the human mind was +broken up by the sudden and unprecedented advance +of the physical sciences. In a single generation +knowledge advanced with great leaps, which +carried it into regions which had never before +been entered. There was a penetrating power in +the scientific method which amazed those who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> +used it. The geologist, the chemist, the biologist, +were daily enlarging the sphere of knowledge. +Political economists were claiming the whole +sphere of morals as their own.</p> + +<p>But all this progress was one-sided. Was the +advance of scientific knowledge only another +name for disenchantment? Was the bloom of +the world to be brushed off, never more to return? +The poets and the artists and idealistic +moralists were panic-stricken. Those who picture +the mood of the so-called Victorian Age as one +of smug complacency forget the predominant +feeling of its men of literary and artistic genius. +Ruskin, Tennyson, Matthew Arnold agree in lamenting +the fact that “knowledge comes but wisdom +lingers.” A glory had departed from the +world. We are in danger, they thought, of knowing +too much.</p> + +<p>Matthew Arnold voiced this despondent mood +in his poem, “The Future.” Man was born in a +boat that floats upon the River of Time. At the +beginning it was a clear flowing mountain stream,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> +and looking out upon the romantic mountains the +voyager’s heart was full of joy.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“As is the world on the banks</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So is the mind of the man.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Our fathers lived in a world of poetry. Life to +them was simple but full of mystery. It was easy +to believe and wonder and enjoy. But the tract +which the River of Time now flows through is +the level plain, bordered by cities, crowded with +traffic. Our world is prosaic, and we must adapt +ourselves to it as best we may. All that remains +is a melancholy resignation.</p> + +<p>It was against this mood of depression that +Emerson always protested. The man of science, +he says, does not divest the world of mystery. He +does not “explain away” anything. His explanations +are but the translating one mystery into +another. His knowledge is never final. It reveals +deep behind deep.</p> + +<p>The trouble is with ourselves. We allow our +imagination to grow torpid. In the processes of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +nature are the materials not only for scientific +investigation, but for poetry also. An evolving +universe is a theme that can never be exhausted.</p> + +<p>Emerson had not the equipment of the man of +science, but he had the imagination which sympathized +with the tendencies of scientific investigation. +It seemed to him that they were confirmations +of the intuition of the poets. That matter +is not dead but thrilling with energy; that space +is not empty but is the medium through which +forces operate; that all things are related; that +lower forms of life are always reaching out toward +that which is higher; that there is a tendency +for the organism to grow more complex +and therefore more wonderful,—these were discoveries +that ought to kindle the poetic imagination.</p> + +<p>Emerson did not flatter himself that he had the +ability to express the new view of the universe. +The new poetry he believed would be realistic +without losing its charm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“For it is dislocation and detachment from the +life of God that makes things ugly. The poet +who reattaches things to nature and the whole—reattaching +even artificial things and violations of +nature to nature by a deeper insight—disposes +very easily of the most disagreeable facts.”</p> +</div> + +<p>That to the true poet all things are poetical was +a teaching that he repeats continually. It was +this belief that made him greet Walt Whitman +with such effusion. When in 1855 the “Leaves +of Grass” appeared, the literary world was affronted. +Whittier, it is said, threw his presentation +copy into the fire. Emerson, almost alone in +his recognition of the new note, wrote,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I give you joy of your free and brave thought. +I have great joy in it. I find incomparable things, +said incomparably well, as they must be. I find +the courage of treatment which so delights us, +and which large perception only can give. I greet +you at the beginning of a great career.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But when Walt, in the exuberance of joy over +the appreciation, published a new edition with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> +Emerson’s commendation printed on the cover, +the Concord poet was displeased. There were +later interviews, but each man became conscious +of the limitations of the other. “I was simmering, +simmering, simmering,” said Whitman, “and +Emerson brought me to boil.” Emerson approved +the ideas which were simmering in the +younger poet’s mind, but when they actually +boiled over he was inclined to get out of the way. +This was not mere fastidiousness. It indicated a +different conclusion drawn from what lawyers +call “agreed facts.” Walt Whitman expresses +the creed of Emerson in his “Song of the Universal:”</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Come, said the Muse,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing me the Universal.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“In this broad earth of ours</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Amid the measureless grossness and the slag,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Enclosed and safe within its central heart</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nestles the seed perfection.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“By every life a share or more or less,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">None born but it is born concealed or</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Unconcealed the seed is waiting.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Over the mountain growths, disease and sorrow,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">An uncaught bird is ever hovering, hovering,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">High in the purer happier air.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“From imperfection’s murkiest cloud</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Darts always forth one ray of perfect light,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">One flash of heaven’s glory.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“To fashion’s, custom’s discords,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the mad Babel din, the deafening orgies,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Soothing each lull a strain is heard, just heard,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From some far shore the final chorus sounding.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“O the blest eyes, the happy hearts,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That see, that know the guiding thread so fine</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Along the mighty labyrinth.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>That spiritual realities are wrapped up in the +material world, and that the seed of perfection +may be found amid the apparent grossness of the +earth, was a creed, which both poets fervently believed. +But what had it to do with the poet’s art?</p> + +<p>Whitman, in his robust faith that goodness +was universal, felt relieved from the responsibility +of choice. Nature had invited him to a +feast of good things. He would take pot luck, +and enjoy the rude plenty. This he conceived<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> +to be the very essence of democracy. He would +take good things in the bulk.</p> + +<p>Emerson also chanted the praise of the universal, +but with a somewhat different emphasis. +He was interested in the grossness and the slag +only for the sake of the seed perfection that lay +hidden in it. It is the uncaught bird that flies +above the mountain, it is the ray of perfect light +that now and then flashes through the murky +clouds, that must be the theme of poetry. The +poet must follow the guiding thread or he is lost +in the labyrinth. There must be discrimination. +Nature has something more than fecundity. +There is an austere rejection of the lower forms +of life in favor of the higher. There is a continual +refinement going on. To interpret this side +of nature is the function of art. In this discrimination +he was in harmony with the scientific attitude.</p> + +<p>The man of science does not yield to an idle +curiosity. He selects the objects of his study and +the method to be used. The laboratory is not +cluttered up with all the objects which a naturalist<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> +might encounter in his walks. Only such objects +as are fitted for the purpose are selected. Should +not the poet exercise the same kind of discrimination?</p> + +<p>Whitman tells us how on Beacon Street in +Boston he walked with Emerson for two hours, +discussing their agreements and differences.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“During these two hours he was the talker and +I the listener. It was an argument,—statement, +reconnoitering, review, attack and pressing home +against all that could be said against my poems,—Children +of Adam. Emerson’s statement was +unanswerable, no judge’s charge ever more complete +or convincing. I could never hear the points +better put,—and then I felt down in my soul the +clear and unmistakable conviction to disobey all, +and pursue my own way.”</p> +</div> + +<p>As between Emerson and Whitman as poets, +it is not necessary for us to decide. Both stood +in the presence of nature. Whitman delighted +in its obvious aspects, its sheer bulk, its prodigality,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> +its endless variety. Emerson was more +interested in the laws which it illustrated and +the unseen forces which move it. He was listening +to the “chorus of the ancient causes.” This +is what made his words so precious to the men of +science who in the nineteenth century were waging +a battle against ancient formulas which obscured +the meaning of their researches.</p> + +<p>Professor Tyndall, in his famous address to +the British Association in 1870, took his text +from Emerson, to whom in many other places +he acknowledged his indebtedness. His theme +was “The Scientific Use of the Imagination,” +and he began by repeating Emerson’s lines which +I have already quoted, beginning:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“If thou wouldst know the mystic song</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Chanted when the sphere was young.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Here, he said, is the poetic expression of the +spirit of modern science.</p> + +<p>In another essay, Professor Tyndall denies the +common notion that advances in science are made +simply by the patient pushing out of boundaries<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> +of knowledge according to a prosaic system. Beyond +the region of actual light where facts are +clearly seen, there is a penumbral region. Here +is a field where intuition goes in advance of +knowledge. “Here the investigator proceeds by +combining intuition and verification. He ponders +the knowledge he possesses and tries to push it +further; he guesses and checks his guess, he conjectures +and confirms or rejects his conjecture.... +Thus the vocation of the true experimentalist +may be defined as the continued use of spiritual +insight, and its incessant correction and +realization. His experiments constitute a body +of which his purified intuitions are as it were the +soul.”</p> + +<p>Those “purified intuitions,” which Tyndall declares +constituted the very soul of science, were +to Emerson the essence of poetry. What the +scientist discovered to be true, the poet saw to be +beautiful. Both recognized the fact that nature +was not fixed but fluid. We see the successive +phases of an endless genesis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The lover of nature is he whose inward and +outward senses are still truly adjusted to each +other; who has retained the spirit of infancy +even into the era of manhood. His intercourse +with heaven and earth becomes part of his daily +food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight +runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. +Nature says,—he is my creature, and maugre +all his imperfect griefs, he shall be glad with me. +Not the sun of the summer alone, but every hour +and season yields its tribute of delight; for every +hour and change corresponds to and authorizes +a different state of the mind, from breathless +noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting +that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. +In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible +virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow-puddles, +at twilight, under a clouded sky, without +having in my thoughts any occurrence of special +good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. +I am glad to the brink of fear. In the +woods, too, a man casts off his years, as the snake +his slough, and at what period soever of life, is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +always a child. In the woods is perpetual youth. +Within these plantations of God a decorum and +sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and +the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a +thousand years. In the woods we return to +reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can +befall me in life,—no disgrace, no calamity (leaving +me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. +Standing on the bare ground,—my head bathed +by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,—all +mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent +eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents +of the Universal Being circulate through +me; I am part or particle of God. The name of +the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental; +to be brothers, to be acquaintances,—master +or servant is then a trifle and a disturbance. +I am a lover of uncontained and immortal +beauty.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c10">CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">PIETY</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>We love the venerable house</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Our fathers built to God;—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>In heaven are kept their grateful vows,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Their dust endears the sod.</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Here holy thoughts a light have shed</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>From many a radiant face,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And prayers of humble virtue made</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The perfume of the place.</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>And anxious hearts have pondered here</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The mystery of life,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And prayed the eternal Light to clear</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Their doubts, and aid their strife.</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>From humble tenements around</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Came up the pensive train,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And in the church a blessing found</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>That filled their homes again</i>;</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>For faith and peace and mighty love</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>That from the Godhead flow,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Showed them the life of Heaven above</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Springs from the life below.</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>They live with God; their homes are dust;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Yet here their children pray,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And in this fleeting lifetime trust</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>To find the narrow way.</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>On him who by the altar stands,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>On him thy blessing fall,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Speak through his lips thy pure commands,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Thou heart that lovest all.</i>”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>MONG the strange adventures of words, +which are continually losing their original +meanings and taking up with new associations, +there is none stranger than that of the word +Piety. To the Romans it was preeminently a +manly virtue. There was no suggestion of weakness +about it. It represented the behavior of the +strong man toward his parents, kinsmen, country +or benefactors. It implied a fine courtesy and a +sense of the fitness of things. There was a sober +affection for all that was permanent in human relations. +Antoninus Pius represented the kind of +loyalty which the Romans most admired.</p> + +<p>It is this piety in the ancient sense which Emerson’s +hymn represents. It is the very opposite of +conventional pietism. To him the New England<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +meeting-house was venerable, because of its associations +with what was most sacred and enduring +in the life of his own people. Whittier himself +has not expressed more tenderly his appreciation +of the personal influences which have bound the +generations together in common worship.</p> + +<p>The same note is sounded in the hymn sung at +the completion of the Concord Monument, April +19, 1836.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“By the rude bridge that arched the flood,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Here once the embattled farmers stood,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And fired the shot heard round the world.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The foe long since in silence slept;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Time the ruined bridge has swept</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“On this green bank, by this soft stream,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We set to-day a votive stone;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That memory may their deed redeem,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When, like our sires, our sons are gone.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Spirit, that made those heroes dare</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To die, and leave their children free,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bid Time and Nature gently spare</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The shaft we raise to them and Thee.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> + +<p>In the lines entitled “Grace” there is a recognition +of the debt which the individual owes to the +society of which he is a part, and by which he is +protected.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“How much, preventing God how much I owe</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the defences thou hast round me set;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Example, custom, fear, occasion slow,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">These scorned bondmen were my parapet.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I dare not peep over this parapet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To gauge which glance the roaring gulf below,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The depth of sin to which I had descended</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Had not these me against myself defended.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>In considering the individualism of Emerson +we have to take account of the fact that he never +really broke with the past, nor did he consider it +necessary to do so in order to achieve freedom. +He acknowledged his indebtedness to those who +had gone before him. But his reverence for their +example led him not to stand perpetually where +they stood; but rather to go on in the same direction +in which they were going.</p> + +<p>All who heard Emerson in the pulpit bear witness +to the atmosphere of reverence which pervaded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> +his utterances. One who listened to him +writes:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“One day there came into our pulpit the most +gracious of mortals with a face all benignity who +gave out the first hymn and made the first prayer +as an angel might have read or prayed. Our +choir was a pretty good one, but its best was +coarse and discordant after Emerson’s voice. I +remember the sermon only that it had an indefinite +charm of simplicity and wisdom, with occasional +illustrations from Nature, which were +about the most delicate and dainty things of the +kind I had ever heard. I could understand them, +if not the fresh philosophical novelties of the discourse.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson was remarkably incurious in regard +to the problems propounded by formal theologians, +but he was a profound believer in the religion +of experience. Piety, whether manifest +toward God or man, was something altogether +natural.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +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 that 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 ought 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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> +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.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c11">CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THOU SHALT NOT PREACH</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>‘A new commandment,’ said the smiling Muse, +‘I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach.’</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N one sense Emerson was always a preacher. +His main interest was in the moral law and in +the development of character. When he left the +pulpit for the lecture platform he was only changing +one congregation for another. In the Unitarian +ministry to which he belonged, the sermon +and the essay were not always clearly differentiated.</p> + +<p>But in another sense Emerson obeyed the prohibition +of the smiling muse. He had no genius +for exhortation, nor had he any desire to enforce +his precepts upon unwilling minds. He lacked +the fervor of the true evangelist, and could not +cry, “Turn ye! turn ye! why will ye die?” He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +could not enforce the gospel of liberalism as did +his friend, Theodore Parker. His attitude was +like that of the man of science to the subject of +his investigation. “Here is the truth as I see it. +Now investigate it for yourselves and see what +you think of it.”</p> + +<p>In the Divinity School address, Emerson +startled his hearers by a bold prophecy.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I look for the hour when that supreme Beauty +which ravished the soul of these Eastern men, +and chiefly of those Hebrews, and through their +lips spake oracles to all time, shall speak in the +West also. The Hebrew and the Greek scriptures +contain immortal sentences that have been the +bread of life to millions. But they have no epical +integrity, are fragmentary, are not shown in +their order to the intellect. I look for the new +Teacher that shall follow so far these shining +laws that he shall see them come round full circle; +shall see the world to be the mirror of the soul, +shall see the identity of the law of gravitation +with purity of heart; and shall show that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +Ought, that Duty is one thing with Science, with +Beauty and Joy.”</p> + +<p>“Virtue is vitiated,” said Emerson, “by too +much will. He who aims at progress should aim +at an infinite not at a special benefit. The reforms +whose fame now fills the land with Temperance, +Anti-slavery, Non-Resistance, no Government, +Equal Labor, fair and generous as each +appears, are poor, bitter things when prosecuted +for themselves as an end.... The soul can +be appeased not by a deed, but by a tendency.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The born preacher appeals to the will and seeks +to change its direction. He pleads and threatens. +He is instant in season and out of season. Only +on a few great occasions did Emerson adopt that +tone. The greatest truths seemed to him to be +self-evidencing. In their presence all minds were +equal. “The weight of the universe is pressed +down on the shoulders of each moral agent to +hold him to his task.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Let us have nothing now but what is its own +evidence. There is surely enough for the heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +in the religion itself. Let us not be pestered with +half-truths and assertion and snuffle.</p> + +<p>“There will be a new church founded on moral +science, at first cold and naked, a babe in a +manger again, the algebra and mathematics of +ethical law, the church of men to come, without +shawms, or psaltery, or sackbut; but it will have +heaven and earth for its beams and rafters; science +for symbol and illustration; it will fast +enough gather beauty, music, picture, poetry. +Was never stoicism so stern and exigent as this +shall be. It shall send man home to his central +solitude, shame these social, supplicating manners, +and make him know that much of the time he +must have himself to his friend. He shall expect +no cooperation, he shall walk with no companion. +The nameless Thought, the nameless Power, the +super-personal Heart,—he shall repose alone on +that. He needs only his own verdict. No good +fame can help, no bad fame can hurt him. The +Laws are his consolers, the good Laws themselves +are alive, they know if we have kept them, they +animate him with the leading of great duty and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +an endless horizon. Honor and fortune exist to +him who always recognizes the neighborhood of +the great, always feels himself in the presence of +high causes.”</p> +</div> + +<p>To all this the preacher might answer, “You +have left out of your account something which is +very important in human nature, namely, its +weakness. The ordinary man lives amid the +wonders of nature, but he may be very little +affected by them. He needs some strong voice to +urge him to open his eyes to what is around him. +If it is so with the most obvious sights, is it not +more so with moral and spiritual beauty? Is not +the preacher needed as well as the philosopher +and poet?”</p> + +<p>No one would be more willing to acknowledge +this than Emerson. His criticism of Plato would +be equally true of himself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Plato, lover of limits, loved the illimitable, +saw the enlargement and nobility that came from +truth itself and good itself, and attempted as if +on the part of the human intellect to do it adequate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +homage.... It remains to say that the +defect of Plato in power is only that which results +inevitably from his quality. He is intellectual +in his aim, and therefore in expression +literary. Mounting into heaven, diving into the +pit, expounding the laws of the state, the passion +of love, the remorse of crime, the hope of the +parting soul, he is literary and never otherwise. +It is almost the sole deduction from Plato that +his writings have not—what is no doubt incident +to this regnancy of intellect in his work—the +vital authority which the screams of the prophets +and the sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews +possess. There is an interval; and to cohesion +contact is necessary.... I know not what +can be said in reply to this criticism but that we +have come to a fact in the nature of things; an +oak is not an orange. The qualities of sugar remain +with sugar, and those of salt with salt.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c12">CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE LURE OF THE WEST</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>If I had a pocket full of money I think I should +go down the Ohio and up and down the Mississippi +by way of antidote to what small remains of Orientalism +(so endemic in these parts) there may still be +in me—to cast out, I mean, the passion for Europe, +by the passion for America; and our reverence for +Cambridge, which is only a part of our reverence +for London, must be transferred across the Alleghany +ridge.</i>”—<span class="smcap">Emerson to Margaret Fuller.</span></p></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>EW England has always been the home of +an intense patriotism. The spirit of +Bunker Hill and Lexington has never been +quenched. Nor can it be said that any part of +the country has sent out more men who have +taken part in an effective way in large national +enterprises.</p> + +<p>Yet in the days before the Civil War, when +Boston became conscious of itself as a literary +center, it was open to the charge of not having<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +yet discovered America. It belonged to a New +England that still looked to Old England for its +models. This, I take it, was always true more of +the literary circles than of the mass of the people, +but it was that which determined the admiration +of those who aspired to “culture.” As Daniel in +Babylon prayed with his windows opened toward +Jerusalem, so the Boston literati, when they took +pen in hand, wrote with their study windows +open toward London. As to what was happening +in the great hinterland beyond the Hudson, they +cared little. And the people in the hinterland, +who were so busy opening up the resources of +the continent that they hadn’t time to be +literary, resented in a good-natured way the Bostonian +attitude. It had that “certain condescension” +which Lowell resented on the part of Europeans, +but from which he and his friends were not +altogether free when they encountered the representative +men of the West.</p> + +<p>I think if is fair to say that Emerson did more +than any one else to redeem the New England +group of authors from the kind of provincialism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> +which was their darling sin. He did it in a twofold +way: first, by attacking their imitation of +things English, and then by inculcating a hearty +admiration for the America that was growing up +in the West.</p> + +<p>In “English Traits” he pays tribute to the +sturdy virtues of the English character and the +wealth of English talent. But he insists on treating +England not as the Mother Country, but as a +different country,—as different as France or Italy. +He admires it, but it is with a critical detachment. +Hawthorne wrote of England as The Old Home. +Emerson had very little of the Old Home idea. +There were ties of deep friendship, but he recognized +that the genius of Britain and the genius of +America were different. He admired the differences.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The wealth of the source is seen in the plenitude +of English nature. What variety of power +and talent, what facility and plenteousness of +knighthood, lordship, ladyship, royalty, loyalty; +what a proud chivalry is indicated in ‘Collin’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> +peerage’ through eight hundred years. What +dignity resting on what reality and stoutness. +What courage in war, what sinew in labor, what +cunning unknown, what inventors and engineers, +what seamen and pilots, what clerks and +scholars.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But this admiration has nothing in it of the +provincial’s attitude to the greatness and privilege +of those who belong to the capital. Had one said, +“Go thou and do and be likewise,” Emerson +would not have budged an inch. His attitude +toward the sturdy Englishman would be like his +attitude toward the Churchman:</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I like a church, I like a cowl,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I love a prophet of the soul,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet not for all his faith can see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Would I that cowlèd churchman be.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Emerson had an admiration for the true-born +Englishman, but not for the anglicized American. +He believed in culture, but there must be +an American culture that must grow out of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +conditions of our own life. In his lines entitled +“Culture” he defined the cultivated man as one +who</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“To his native center fast,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall into Future fuse the Past,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the world’s flowing fates in his own mould recast.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>And when he thought of the world’s flowing +fates, his mind turned westward. There great +things were happening. A new civilization was being +created. There was nothing condescending in +the attitude of the thinker to these men of action, +who on an unparalleled stage were beginning a +new act.</p> + +<p>Against the fastidious critics of Boston, Emerson +defends the rough and ready men of the +West, who were already making their influences +felt in politics.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“As long as our people quote English standards, +they dwarf their own proportions. A Western +lawyer of eminence said to me he wished it were +a penal offence to bring an English lawbook into +court in this country, so pernicious had he found<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +in his experience our deference to English precedent. +The very word commerce has only an +English meaning and is pinched to the cramp +exigencies of English experience. The commerce +of rivers, the commerce of railroads, and who +knows but the commerce of air balloons must +give an American extension to the pond-hole of +admiralty. As long as our people quote English +standards, they will miss the sovereignty of +power.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Even before the Civil War Emerson discerned +clearly the significance of the Middle West +and the great part it was destined to play in the +development of civilization. The old thirteen +states had a tradition that was essentially British. +The great states which had been established in +the Mississippi valley were in their origin purely +American. There was no colonial background to +their history. Here the pioneer spirit had developed +freely. It was the spirit of Daniel Boone +and Davy Crockett and Peter Cartwright.</p> + +<p>Emerson reminds his fastidious friends that +there is an explosive energy in young America.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Men of this surcharge of arterial blood cannot +live on nuts and herb tea and elegies, cannot +read novels and play whist, cannot satisfy all +their wants at the Thursday lecture or the Boston +Athenæum. They pine for adventure, and must +go to Pikes Peak, had rather die of the hatchet of +a Pawnee than sit all day and every day at a +counting-room desk. They are made for war, +for the sea, for mining, hunting and clearing, +for hairbreadth adventures, huge risks and adventurous +living.... Their friends and +governors must see that some vent for their explosive +complexion is provided. The roisterers +who are destined for infamy at home will cover +you with glory and come back heroes and generals. +There are Oregons, Californias and exploring +expeditions enough appertaining to America +to find them in files to gnaw and crocodiles to +eat.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson could not satisfy all his wants in the +Boston Athenæum or the Saturday Club. Every +year he escaped from his neighbors for a lecture<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +tour in the West. It was before the days of the +Pullman car, and traveling in interior America +meant roughing it.</p> + +<p>He did not put on any airs as a missionary of +culture. He could not make a living as a writer +of books. He must earn something as an itinerant +lecturer.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“It comes to this. I’ll bet you fifty dollars a +day for three weeks that you will not leave your +library and wade and freeze and ride and run, +and suffer all manner of indignities, and stand up +for an hour every night reading in a hall! I bet +I will. I do it and win the nine hundred dollars.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The ways of the lecturer were not always +pleasant. “Two nights in a rail car and a third +on the floor of a canal boat, where the cushion +allowed me for a bed was crossed at the knees +by another tier of sleepers as long-limbed as I, +so that the air was a wreath of legs.”</p> + +<p>In 1853 he writes from Springfield, Illinois, +“Here I am in the deep mud of the prairies. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> +rains and thaws incessantly and if we step off a +short street we go up to the shoulders perhaps in +mud. My chamber is a cabin, my fellow-boarders +are legislators. Two or three governors +or ex-governors live in the house. But in the +prairie we are all new men, and must not stand +on trifles.”</p> + +<p>In mid-winter he makes this entry in his +journal: “My chief adventure was the necessity +of riding in a buggy forty-eight miles to Grand +Rapids; then after lecture twenty more in return, +and the next morning back to Kalamazoo in time +for the train hither at twelve.” This was at a +time when Kalamazoo was a name strange to +Bostonian ears.</p> + +<p>It was not comfortable traveling through blizzards +to discourse to audiences which gathered +in chilly or stuffy halls, but it was interesting. +“Here is America in the making, America in the +raw. But it does not want much to go to lecture, +and ’tis a pity to drive it.”</p> + +<p>It is only fair to add that Emerson’s appreciation +of the new West was intellectual rather than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> +intimately social. He saw it in the large, and +treated it in a symbolic way. He saw the significance +of the western man’s boastfulness over +the growth of the country. He liked to watch +towns grow. He would have delighted in the +Chicago man’s remark that when Chicago turned +to culture it would make culture hum. That was +after Emerson’s own heart, and it was that spirit +which he wished to infuse into his well-beloved +Boston.</p> + +<p>In 1839 he writes, “It is a sort of maxim with +me never to harp on the omnipotence of limitations. +Least of all do we need any suggestion +of checks and measures, as if New England were +anything else.... Our virtue runs in a narrow +rill, we have never a freshet. One would +like to see Boston and Massachusetts agitated +like a wave with some generosity, mad for learning, +for music, for philanthropy, for freedom, +for art. We have insight and sensibility enough +if we had constitution enough.”</p> + +<p>The old Puritan capital of Massachusetts has +become a great cosmopolitan city, and what were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +then raw towns of the West are to-day making +culture hum, but it is interesting to read Emerson’s +judgments. He insisted that the rough +work which the pioneers were doing, clearing the +forest, building railroads, laying out cities and +incidentally speculating in corner lots did not +indicate that they were materialistic. They were +idealists of an heroic sort. They were big men +doing big things. The amenities would come in +time. The fierce energy with which they did +their work would be turned at length to the finer +arts. He greeted them as the makers of a new +civilization. The men of the West knew all this +before. But they were glad to have Mr. Emerson +come out and confirm them in their splendid anticipations.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c13">CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">EMERSON’S ELUSIVE SMILE</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Uprose the merry Sphinx</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And crouched no more in stone.</i>”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was only the accident of local contiguity that +made Doctor Holmes attempt a biography of +Emerson. The men were altogether unlike, and +their minds seldom met. Emerson’s mysticism +was to Holmes an intellectual frailty to be +covered over by a friendly apology. But the +doctor, though averse to transcendentalism, was +a good judge of wit and humor. He tells us that +no one can fully appreciate Emerson who has +not seen the quick smile with which he read passages +which his sober-minded disciples took as +oracles to be pondered, while to him they were +flashes of wit.</p> + +<p>Emerson certainly had wit, but he was not +witty in the ordinary sense, nor did he really<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +enjoy the broader kinds of humor. He tells us +how he went with little Waldo to the circus and +they enjoyed themselves hugely till the clown +came out to perform his antics. Waldo whispered, +“The funny man makes me want to go +home.” His father adds that he was of his +opinion. It was a sore trial to him, therefore, +when in his lectures he was sometimes expected +to play the funny man. In preparing them for +the press he, to the disappointment of some of +his friends, cut out the enlivening anecdotes which +his more austere taste disapproved.</p> + +<p>Play of wit there was, but it was a game of +solitaire. The great wits like Sidney Smith need +antagonists and spectators for their play. Theirs +is the quick give and take, or the unexpected +word that sets the table in a roar. Emerson, as +we have seen, was strangely deficient in conversational +aptitude, and had no power of repartee. +He complains of the way in which he was put +down by clever talkers. “A snipper snapper eats +me whole.”</p> + +<p>Many of those who had been attracted by his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> +writings were disappointed when they came to +him to talk over the subjects which he had suggested. +They found it hard to get at him. Henry +James, the elder, declares that he knew of no one +“whose conversation was less remunerative.”</p> + +<p>Emerson’s wit was, to use William Penn’s +phrase, “the fruit of solitude.” It was produced +by collisions of thought that took place in his +own mind, these happenings having no particular +relation to time or place. They are “the smile +of reason” over the incongruities developed in +the course of human reasoning.</p> + +<p>It was a part of Emerson’s philosophy. To +him the man thinking was like a schoolboy with +lexicon and grammar trying to read a Latin +classic. It is hard work, and the schoolboy +frowns as he bends to the task. The frown indicates +his grim determination, which is a good +sign. He is making hard work of it, will learn +the lesson in time. But his serious demeanor indicates +also that he does not yet know the meaning +of the words he is painfully puzzling over. For +they were written in lighter vein and contain a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> +merry jest. When the meaning flashes forth, the +words are forgotten, and the boy smiles understandingly.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s quick but illusive smile came when +he perceived the meaning of something which had +seemed to be meaningless. The riddle of existence +seems to most men the cause of futile +effort to understand. The sphinx is a very +solemn character indeed. To Emerson the +mystery was not a cause of complaint. He suspected +the sphinx of practical jokes. She was +concealing something from us.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I heard a poet answer</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Aloud and cheerfully,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Are pleasant songs to me.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Deep love lieth under</div> + <div class="verse indent2">These pictures of time;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That fade in the light of</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Their meaning sublime.’”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When thus challenged</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Said, ‘Who taught thee me to name?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of thine eye I am eyebeam.’”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> + +<p>Then the frowning face gave way to a smile, +and “up rose the merry sphinx and crouched no +more in stone.”</p> + +<p>The conception of a “merry sphinx” is deliciously +Emersonian. The tables are turned upon +the bitter satirist. The satirist smiles when he +sees the incongruity between what men expect +and what they actually receive, between what +they profess to be and what they are. In all this +it is assumed that the reality is worse than the +expectation. Things are not what they seem.</p> + +<p>Quite so, says Emerson, but they are not always +worse than they seem. They are often +infinitely better than they seem. We are all the +time entertaining angels unawares. We are dull +creatures, and are slow to recognize our betters. +If it is amusing to unmask a hypocrite, is it not +still more amusing to discover that the commonplace +individual whom we have been patronizing +is really a king in disguise?</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Seek not beyond thy cottage wall</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Redeemers that can yield thee all,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While thou sittest at the door</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On the desert’s yellow floor,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Listening to the grey-haired crones,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Saadi, see! they rise in stature</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the height of mighty Nature,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the secret stands revealed.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The blessed gods in servile masks</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Plied for thee thy household tasks.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>And when the performance does not come up +to the expectation, the sudden discovery is not +always unpleasant.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The essence of all jokes, of all comedy seems +to be an honest and well-intentioned half-ness, a +non-performance of what is intended to be performed. +The balking of the intellect, the frustrated +expectation, the break of the continuity +in the intellect is comedy.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson was very seldom known to laugh +outright, and indeed rather disliked that explosion. +But he was exceedingly sensitive to “breaks +in the continuity of the intellect.” His mind was +naturally logical. If this be so, that will follow, +he argued. But he was quick-witted to see that +sometimes the thing which he expected did <i>not</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> +follow. He could not help but smile at the contradiction +to his logic.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“This is the radical joke of life and then of +literature. The presence of the ideal of right +and truth in all action makes the yawning delinquencies +of practice remorseful to the conscience, +tragic to the interest, but droll to the intellect.”</p> +</div> + +<p>This intellectual perception is necessary for +our sanity.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“We have no deeper interest than our integrity, +and that we should be aware by joke and by stroke +of any lie we entertain. Besides, a perception of +the comic seems a balance wheel in our metaphysical +structure. It appears to be an essential +element in a fine character. Wherever the intellect +is constructive it will be found. We feel the +absence of it as a defect in the noblest and most +oracular soul. The perception of the comic is a +tie of sympathy with other men, and a protection +from those perverse tendencies and gloomy insanities +in which fine intellects sometimes lose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> +themselves. A rogue alive to the ludicrous is still +convertible. If that sense is lost, his fellow men +can do little for him.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The rogue who can laugh at himself may be +converted. But the sentimentalist who takes himself +too seriously is in an unsalvable condition.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Society is infested by persons who, seeing that +the sentiments please, counterfeit the expression +of them. These we call sentimentalists—talkers +who mistake the description for the thing, saying +for having. They have, they tell us, an intense +love of nature; poetry; O they adore poetry and +roses and the moon, and the cavalry regiment, +and the governor; they “dear liberty;” they worship +virtue—“dear virtue.” Yes, they adopt +whatever merit is in good repute, and almost +make it hateful with their praise. The warmer +their expressions, the colder we feel; we shiver +with cold. A little experience acquaints us with +the inconvertibility of the sentimentalist, the soul +that is lost by mimicking soul. Cure the drunkard,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> +heal the insane, mollify the homicide, civilize +the Pawnee, but what lessons can be devised for +the debauchee of sentiment? Was ever one converted?”</p> +</div> + +<p>It happened that Emerson attracted many of +these sentimentalists and he was not unconscious +of the humor of the situation.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c14">CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE QUIET REVOLUTIONIST</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>The Past has baked my loaf, and in the strength +of its bread I break up the old oven.</i>”</p> + +<p class="r">—<span class="smcap">Emerson’s Journal.</span></p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>t is not easy for some people to understand +Emerson’s attitude toward the revolutionary +forces that are all the time threatening the stability +of society. One can appreciate the fierce +energy of the revolutionist who, believing that +the social structure is altogether bad, seeks to +destroy it. On the other hand, there are those +who look with alarm at every project that involves +radical change.</p> + +<p>But here was a quiet householder who habitually +uttered the most revolutionary sentiments +as if they were the most natural thoughts in the +world. Of course the institutions which we see +around us are not permanent. They are not the +real things with which we have to do. They are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +the results of what took place yesterday; they are +yielding to what is taking place to-day. The only +reality is the force which makes and unmakes +them. Laws, customs, constitutions, churches, +are the results of the revolutionary impulse in +man. They are the temporary embodiments of +restless thought. Everything follows thought. +You think of armies, and priesthoods, and courts +of justice, as necessities. Yes, they are necessities +of thought. Change the thought and they +change their form. The temple that seems to +have grown out of the solid earth has in reality +grown out of the vague aspirations of the worshipper. +It grew as the tree grows, through a +power of working from within. It was built as +the bird builds its nest, through an instinct which +was irresistible.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Know’st thou what wove yon woodbird’s nest</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of leaves, and feathers from her breast?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or how the fish outbuilt her shell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Painting with morn each annual cell?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or how the sacred pine tree adds</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To her old leaves new myriads?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Such and so grew these holy piles,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whilst love and terror laid the tiles.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Earth proudly wears the Parthenon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As the best gem upon her zone,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And morning opes with haste her lids</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To gaze upon the Pyramids;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O’er England’s abbeys bends the sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As on its friends, with kindred eye;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For out of Thought’s interior sphere</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There wonders rose to upper air.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>One might watch the face of a man in the act +of thinking. As one thought follows another, +the mobile features change. Nerves and muscles +respond to the impulses from within. The lips +curve now downward, now upward, the cheeks +quiver, the eyes dilate and then close, tell-tale +wrinkles appear upon the forehead, the chin +grows firm and then is relaxed, the pose of the +head is now defiant and again it droops. The +man is lost in thought, and unconscious of how +he appears. To him the thought is all.</p> + +<p>Two painters may be watching him. One is a +literalist. To him the pose and features are everything. +He imagines himself to be a realist, and +his ambition is to portray the man as he actually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +is. Now it is obviously impossible literally to put +all the changing expressions on a single canvas. +So what the painter does is to seize one attitude +and treat it as if it were permanent. The result +is something hard and unyielding. We recognize +the likeness, but there is no suggestion of the +possibility of a change of mood. It is not, as we +say, a speaking likeness.</p> + +<p>The other painter is a real artist. To him the +features are quivering with expression, and the +expression changes at every instant. He sees his +subject as alive. The smile, the frown, the tense +muscles all mean something. They indicate what +the man is thinking about. The shape and poise +of the head tell whether nature has endowed him +with the capacity to have thoughts that are significant. +The aim of the artist is first to get inside +the man’s mind and then to interpret that mind +through the outward features.</p> + +<p>If he succeeds, we say his picture is alive. The +limitation of his art demands that he shall present +only the attitude of a single moment, but we perceive +that attitude is about to change. He is in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +the act of doing something, and there is on our +part a feeling of expectancy. The orator’s lips +are mobile, he is about to speak. The soldier’s +hand is on his sword, he is about to grasp it +firmly and wield it with all his might. It is always +the suggestion of something that is coming +that marks the work of genius.</p> + +<p>Now there are two ways of looking at human +institutions,—from without or from within. We +may look at laws and customs as if they were +fixed and final. They are the features of a giant +carved in stone. We may be idolaters of the +existing order, worshipping the carved image. +Or we may be iconoclasts, ready to give it a +smashing blow.</p> + +<p>But to one who seeks to look at it all from +within, the institutions represent but the transitory +glory of features of the Great Being. The +Great Being is thinking, he is dreaming of things +to come, he is planning his dwelling place upon +earth. The thoughts come thick and fast, and +the acts follow each after its kind.</p> + +<p>Humanity, conceived of as a great composite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +being, of which we are parts, is all alive and +quivering with aspiration. It is never satisfied +with the work of its own hands, and it never +gives up working. Thousands of human beings +are at a given time impelled by one spirit, and cooperate +to one end. Their actions are not rational +in the sense that each individual is able to give a +reason, or least the right reason, for what he +does. And yet the process, looked at as a whole, +is not irrational. There is some big thought behind +it all, of which all the action is expressive. Give +us time and we can see the outlines of the thought.</p> + +<p>Humanity is thinking. It is storing up experience. +It is a creative force. Even what we +call matinalistic progress, is itself but the following +of an idea.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And what if Trade sow cities</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like shells along the shore,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thatch with towns the prairie broad</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With railways ironed o’er?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are but sailing foam bells</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Along Thought’s causing stream,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And take their shape and sun color</div> + <div class="verse indent2">From him that sends the dream.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> + +<p>The historian tells of the Roman Empire, Feudalism, +the Crusades, the French Revolution. +These are tremendous facts. But the facts mean +nothing till we see them as the expression of successive +states of mind. Royalty as an institution +is incredible to the born democrat who is without +imagination, and who does not take the trouble to +ask how the loyal subject feels toward his +anointed king. And democracy is an empty +name to one who has never felt the thrill of the +idea that lies behind it.</p> + +<p>In looking back from the vantage ground of +several centuries, it is possible to see how a generation +of men may be obsessed by an idea that +determines all their achievements. We may see +that idea lose hold upon the mind of the next +generation, and lo all the mighty works lose all +interest. It is as if one moment we saw the face +of the Great Being all aquiver with interest. Then +suddenly the light fades and he turns away from +the work of his own hands.</p> + +<p>But it is not so easy to realize that the mighty +works of our own day owe their existence, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> +depend for their security on the same transitory +support of thought. They represent our present +thinking, and when we come to think differently +they will disappear.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” but we say, “we go down to hard facts. +We build upon the granite of actuality, not on +anything so unsubstantial as mere thought.”</p> + +<p>Emerson would answer. “You think of the +granite mountain peak as unchanging. Ask the +geologist to tell you what he knows about Monadnock. +To him the mountain does not seem very +old. Its present form is but a transitory thing. +It is but a bubble upon the earth that is sailing +through stars with all its history.”</p> + +<p>The poet who has learned the lesson of geology +hears the mountain confess its own instability.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let him heed who can and will;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Enchantment fixed me here</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To stand the hurts of time, until</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In loftier chant I disappear.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If thou trowest</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How the chemic eddies play,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pole to pole, and what they say;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And that these gray crags<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not on crags are hung,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But beads are of a rosary</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On prayer and music strung;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, credulous, through the granite seeming,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Seest the smile of Reason beaming;—</div> + <div class="verse indent14">···</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Knowest thou this?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O pilgrim, wandering not amiss!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Already my rocks lie light,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And soon my cone will spin.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Older than the mountain is the power from +which it sprang. And that power is only interpreted +by Thought.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Monadnock is a mountain strong,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tall and good my kind among;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But well I know, no mountain can,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Zion or Meru, measure with man.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For it is on zodiacs writ</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Adamant is soft to wit:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And when the greater comes again</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With my secret in his brain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I shall pass, as glides my shadow</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Daily over hill and meadow.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>“When the greater comes again.” That was +what Emerson was always murmuring to himself. +The greatness that he recognized was the greatness +of thought.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p>He was therefore always eager to meet men +who were dissatisfied with existing things and +making plans for betterment. He received them +hospitably, he listened sympathetically. That +their schemes involved radical changes did not +frighten him. It seemed to be in the order of +nature.</p> + +<p>But he always applied the same test. It was +not enough that their proposal should be for +something different. It must also be something +greater, and the greater includes the less. When +the greater thought comes, it shall make us understand +and appreciate the good that already exists. +It will make universal what is now partial. The +“song of Human progress” he expresses in the +song of nature.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I wrote the past in characters</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of rock and fire the scroll,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The building of the coral sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The planting of the coal.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let war and trade and creeds and song</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blend, ripen race on race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sunburnt world a man shall breed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of all the zones and countless days.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My oldest force is good as new,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the fresh rose on yonder thorn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gives back the bending heavens in dew.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Notice the way in which the view of nature +and the hopes for human nature are blended. Out +of a few ancient elements, nature is continually +making new and amazing combinations. Nothing +is destroyed, everything is transformed. The +same conservation of energy he discerns in humanity. +The elements of character are old as +the race, but no one can prophesy what new perfection +can be obtained from them.</p> + +<p>One may see Emerson’s thought best by contrasting +it with that of a poet whose mind turned +toward the same subject. Wordsworth and +Emerson both loved to personify nature, and in +communion with nature they found refreshment +of spirit. But Emerson, who was not accustomed +to use terms of disparagement, sometimes spoke +more harshly of Wordsworth than of any other +modern English poet.</p> + +<p>The fact was that the two men looked at nature<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +with quite different eyes. To Wordsworth, nature +was the arch conservative. Over against +the vain commotion of humankind was the great +brooding presence of a power that could be relied +upon because it was ever the same. And after +his first fever of revolutionary ardor, Wordsworth +returned to nature as to a refuge from all +innovations. Here was the calm of an established +order, and the more nearly human institutions +conformed to this stability, the better for them.</p> + +<p>To Emerson, nature was not the symbol of +what is unchanging; it was eager, flashing, evanescent, +infinitely suggestive. It was never the +same. When it seemed the same it was only +because our eyes are so dull that we can not catch +all the transitions.</p> + +<p>And that which helps us in our contact with +the natural world is not its soothing lullabys. It +is the challenge which comes to join in the quick +and rude play of the forces which are creating +and recreating the world. Come out-of-doors, +the voice cries, and know what it is to live.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘Bookworm, leave thy sloth urbane,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A greater spirit bids thee forth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Than the gray dreams that thee detain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mark how the climbing Oreads</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beckon thee to their arcades,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Youth, for a moment free as they,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Teach thy feet to feel the ground</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ere yet arrives the wintry day</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When Time thy feet has bound.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Take the bounty of thy birth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Taste the Lordship of the earth.’</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">“I heard, and I obeyed,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Assured that he who made the claim</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Well known, but loving not a name,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was not to be gainsaid.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Nature does not rebuke our impatience when +we break up old forms in order to make better. +She is our accomplice, and conspires with us. +We misrepresent her when we try to imitate her. +Only in some stroke of originality do we accept +her challenge. To see only repetition in nature +is not to see at all.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Alas, thine is the bankruptcy,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blessed nature so to see.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Behind thee leave thy merchandise,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thy churches and thy charities,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And leave thy peacock wit behind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Enough for thee the primal mind</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That flows in streams, that breathes in wind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Leave all thy pedant lore apart;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">God hid the whole world in thy heart.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gives all to them who all renounce.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The rain comes when the wind calls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The river knows the way to the sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Without a pilot it runs and falls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blessing all lands with its charity.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sea tosses and foams to find</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Its way up to the cloud and wind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The shadow sits close to the flying ball,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The date fails not on the palm tree tall,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thou,—go burn thy wormy pages,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shalt outsee seers and outwit sages.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>That which he saw in nature he saw in every +human effort that was free and spontaneous. He +loved to call it the <i>Newness</i>. The Newness is that +“which reconciles impossibilities, atones for shortcomings, +expiates sins or makes them virtues, +buries in oblivion the crowded historical past, +sinks religions, philosophies, persons to legends, +reverses the score of opinion of fame, reduces<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> +science to opinion, and makes the thought of the +moment the key to the universe and the egg of +history to come.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The Divine Newness. Hoe and spade, sword +and pen, pictures, gardens, laws, bibles and prizes, +only they were means He sometimes used. So +with astronomy, music, arithmetic, castes, feudalism—we +kiss with devotion these hems of His +garment. We mistake them for Him, they +crumble in ashes on our lips.”</p> +</div> + +<p>To the worshipper of the Divine Newness, there +was nothing terrible in the voices of eager innovators, +for innovation is in the order of nature, +and “the good human race outlives them all, and +forever in the heart abides the old sovereign sentiment +requiring justice and good-will to all, and +rebuilds the decayed temples, and with new names +chants again the praises of Eternal Right.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The idea which now begins to agitate society +has a wider scope than our daily employments, +our households and the institutions of property.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +We are to revise the whole of our social structure, +the state, the school, religion, marriage, trade, +science, and explore their foundations in our own +nature; we are to see that the world not only fitted +the former men, but fits us, and to clear ourselves +of every usage which has not its roots in our own +mind. What is a man born for but to be a Reformer, +a Re-maker of what man has made; a renouncer +of lies; a restorer of truth and good, +imitating that great Nature which embosoms us +all, and which sleeps no moment on an old past, +but every hour repairs herself, yielding us every +morning a new day, and with every pulsation a +new life? Let him renounce everything which +is not true to him, and put all his practices back +on their first thoughts, and do nothing for which +he has not the whole world for his reason. If +there are inconveniences, and what is called ruin +in the way, because we have so enervated and +maimed ourselves, yet it would be like dying of +perfumes to sink in the effort to re-attach the +deeds of every day to the holy and mysterious recesses +of life.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c15">CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">MEDITATIONS ON POLITICS</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>In dealing with the State, we ought to remember +that its institutions are not aboriginal, though they +existed before we were born; that they are not superior +to the citizen, that every one of them was the +act of a single man, every law and usage was a +man’s expedient to meet a particular case.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HAT has been said of Emerson’s faith +in the “Divine Newness” must be taken +into account when we read his essay on politics. +Like the Epistles of St. Paul, it contains some +things hard to be understood, “which they that are +unlearned and unstable wrest to their own destruction.” +I have seen an anarchistic pamphlet which +was made up almost entirely of quotations from +Emerson.</p> + +<p>Indeed, on the face of it, it appears to be an +argument not only against political parties, but +against government in general. This is because +doubt is thrown upon what we usually call the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> +foundations of organized society. Emerson did +not believe that government had any <i>foundations</i>. +He did not think of it as a building solidly resting +upon a rock, and where one stone is fitted upon +another. He thought of the state as a living body +perpetually being renewed and having a power of +motion. This organism so long as it is healthy +can adapt itself to all kinds of conditions. The +aim of politics is not to prevent change, but to +prevent stagnation, which is death.</p> + +<p>Before reading Emerson on Politics, read +Burke’s wonderful tributes to the British Constitution +and diatribes on the French Revolution. +To Burke the British Constitution was a stately +English mansion. It was the home of ordered +Liberty. Generations have worked upon this +mighty edifice. It was founded by the fathers; +the new generations could add to it. But let no +vandal attempt to dislodge one stone. It must be +preserved in all its original beauty. The institution +once formed became itself the object of pious +solicitude. It was not a tool to be used, but a +sacred symbol of the nation’s life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> + +<p>Emerson did not feel that any political institution +had such sanctity as that. “To the young +citizen,” he says, “organized society lies in rigid +repose, men and institutions rooted like oak trees +to the center around which all arrange themselves +as best they can. But the old statesman knows +that society is fluid; there are no such roots and +centers, but any particle may suddenly become +the center of the movement and compel the system +to gyrate around it.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“That kind of government which prevails is +the expression of what cultivation exists in the +society which permits it. The law is only a +memorandum. We are superstitious and esteem +the statute somewhat. So much life as it has in +the character of living men is its force.”</p> +</div> + +<p>He then considers the two objects for which +governments exist—persons and property. He +shows how it is the tendency of the propertied +classes to get control of the government and make +the laws. This is so even in a democracy. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +protection of property then becomes the business +of governments rather than the welfare of persons.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Ordinarily our parties are parties of circumstances +and not of principle, as the planting interest +in conflict with the commercial, parties which +are identical in their moral character, and which +can easily change ground with each other in many +of their measures.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The conservative party may be composed of +kind-hearted and excellent people, but it can never +be trusted when property interests conflict with +personal rights. “The conservative party, composed +of the most moderate, able and cultivated +part of the community, is timid and merely defensive +of property. It vindicates no right, it +aspires to no real good, it brands no crime, it +proposes no generous policy, it does not build, nor +cherish the arts, nor foster religion, nor establish +schools, nor encourage science, nor emancipate +the slave, nor befriend the poor, or the Indian, +or the immigrant.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>We Americans boast of our political institutions.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“But our institutions, though in coincidence +with the spirit of the age, have not any exemption +from the practical defects which have discredited +other forms. Every actual state is corrupt. Good +men must not obey the laws too well. What satire +on government can equal the severity of censure +conveyed in the word ‘politic,’ which for ages has +signified cunning, intimating that the state is a +trick.</p> + +<p>“We live in a very low state of the world and +pay unwilling tribute to governments founded on +force.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The essay ends with a glowing picture of a +society of perfect freedom, in which reliance +would be put on moral forces alone, and “the private +citizen might be reasonable and a good neighbor +without the hint of a jail or confiscation.”</p> + +<p>As we come to this conclusion, we say with a +start, “This mild-spoken gentleman has been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +saying something which sounds very much like +what the revolutionary radicals have been preaching +with lamentable results. He has brought us +to the edge of the precipice of philosophic anarchy.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps so, but the mild-mannered gentleman +is not an anarchist, and it has never entered his +head to jump off the precipice. He has come to +look at the view and he intends to return home by +way of the turnpike.</p> + +<p>What Emerson has been saying is that political +institutions are not ends in themselves, and that +it is a superstition to regard them as such. They +are expedients that are always capable of improvement. +The resort to physical coercion would not +be necessary in a perfect society. But in the +meantime, what are we to do? Emerson’s common +sense makes answer.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Let not the most conservative and timid fear +anything from the premature surrender of the +bayonet and the system of force. For according +to the order of Nature, which is quite superior<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +to our will, it stands thus: there will always be a +government of force where men are selfish; and +when they are pure enough to abjure the code of +force, they will be wise enough to see how the +public ends of the post-office, of the highway, of +commerce, and the exchange of property, of museums, +libraries, institutions of art and science +can be answered.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson would agree with the philosophical +anarchist in saying that a society is possible in +which men and women can regulate their affairs +without the consciousness of any coercive governmental +force. He would agree also that we ought +to strive after such a free society. But when it +came to the practical question as to how to attain +this ideal, they would part company. The anarchist +would say, “Let us abolish government, +and then we shall have a community of individuals +each one of whom will be a law unto himself.”</p> + +<p>Emerson would say, “I can not follow you. +You put the cart before the horse. You have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +fallen into the political superstition against which +I have been protesting. You attribute to the +<i>absence</i> of government power which the legalists +attribute to governmental control. They think +that law can make men virtuous; you think that +the lack of it can perform the miracle. My attitude +is that of Paul in regard to the observance +of the Jewish ceremonial law. ‘Circumcision +availeth nothing, and uncircumcision but the new +creature.’”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the practical man would say, “that is all +very well, but how are you going to get the new +creature? If we had better men, wise, temperate, +just, tolerant, we should not need so many laws; +but how are we to produce such personalities?”</p> + +<p>At this point, the philosophy of the twentieth +century would take issue with the liberalism of +the nineteenth century. We have more faith in +the power of institutions than had Emerson and +his contemporaries. We are trying the experiment +of free government under much more difficult +conditions, The study of the social sciences<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> +has made us emphasize cooperation. May not +society through wise laws and well-conceived +institutions direct its own destinies?</p> + +<p>To which Emerson would answer: “Yes, if +society is composed of enough wise and self-reliant +individuals. But social progress depends +on individual progress. A man must be able to +stand alone before he is able to cooperate to any +advantage.”</p> + +<p>His faith in the destiny of America was +founded on the belief that the people were better +than their politics. There was a power there to +be invoked in time of need. We are as yet only +incompletely organized, but the power is there. +Little by little there will be created institutions +that will more adequately represent the aspirations +of multitudes of private persons.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“When I look at the constellations of cities +which animate and illustrate the land, and see +how little the government has to do with their +daily life, how self-helped and self-directed all +families are—knots of people in purely natural<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +societies—societies of trade, of kindred blood, +of habitual hospitality, house and house, man acting +on man by weight of opinion, of longer or +better directed industry, the refining influence of +women, the invitation which experience and permanent +causes open to youth and labors—when I +see how much each virtuous and gifted person, +whom all men consider, lives affectionately with +scores of excellent people who are not known far +from home, and perhaps with great reason reckons +these people his superiors in virtue and in the +symmetry and force of their qualities, I see what +cubic values America has, and in these a better +certificate of civilization than great cities or enormous +wealth.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In regard to the definite political issues of +the time, Emerson’s sympathies were clearly +expressed. Slavery was always an abomination +to him, but he was slow to identify himself with +the abolitionists. Their narrowness and intolerance +offended his sense of fair play, while their +courage attracted him. When the issue became<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> +one of the right to free speech, he stood squarely +with them. Against the extension of slavery he +protested vigorously. When the Civil War came, +Emerson threw himself heartily into the side of +the Union. Toward Lincoln himself his attitude +was one of doubt till the proclamation of emancipation +came. After that there was no one who +did more to interpret the soul of Lincoln to the +people.</p> + +<p>But in one thing Emerson differed from most +of the New England idealists. He did not put his +trust in the respectable classes alone. He delighted +in the crude strength of the people. His +conception of American politics was that which +Theodore Roosevelt so admirably illustrated in +the generation following. It was the magnificent +challenge to the reformer who was virile enough +to meet all men on their own ground and overcome +them there.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“A timid man,” Emerson says, “listening to +the alarmist in Congress and in the newspapers +and observing the profligacy of party—sectional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +interests urged with a fury which shuts its eyes +to consequences, with a mind made up to desperate +extremities, ballot in one hand and rifle in the +other, might easily believe that he and his country +had seen their best days and harden himself the +best he can against the coming ruin.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But he believed that there were elements of +strength which the timid man did not take into +account. The rough and ready politician was +likely to be more nearly right than the fastidious +person who despairs of the republic.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Let these rough riders,—legislators in shirtsleeves,—Hoosier, +Sucker, Wolverine, Badger,—or +whatever hard head Arkansas, Oregon, or +Utah sends, half orator, half assassin, to represent +its wrath and cupidity at Washington,—let these +drive as they may; and the disposition of territories +and public lands, the necessity of balancing +and keeping at bay the snarling majorities of +German, Irish, and of native millions, will bestow +promptness, address, and reason, at last, on our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +buffalo-hunter, and authority and majesty of +manners. The instinct of the people is right. Men +expect from good Whigs put into offices by the +respectability of the country, much less skill to +deal with Mexico, Spain, Britain, or with our own +malcontent members, than from some strong +transgressor, like Jefferson, or Jackson, who first +conquers his own government, and then uses the +same genius to conquer the foreigner. The senators +who dissented from Mr. Polk’s Mexican +war were not those who knew better, but those +who, from political position, could afford it; not +Webster, but Benton and Calhoun.</p> + +<p>“These Hoosiers and Suckers are really better +than the snivelling opposition. Their wrath is at +least of a bold and manly cast. They see, against +the unanimous declarations of the people, how +much crime the people will bear; they proceed +from step to step, and they have calculated but +too justly upon their Excellencies, the New England +governors, and upon their Honours, the New +England legislators. The messages of the governors +and the resolutions of the legislatures are a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> +proverb for expressing a sham virtuous indignation, +which, in the course of events, is sure to +be belied.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Wisdom is justified of her children and Emerson’s +political teachings bore fruit in a man of +the next generation,—Theodore Roosevelt. +Roosevelt’s “strenuous life” was a popular exposition +of the Emersonian doctrine. The strong +man is needed in a democracy. He must understand +the snarling majorities and the obstinate +minorities. He must enjoy the conflict. He must +play the game. But he must at the same time +have a moral ideal of his own, simple and commanding. +He must be not a statuesque statesman +but a rough and ready idealist.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c16">CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE CANDID FRIEND OF ENGLAND</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>A wise traveller will naturally choose to visit the +best of actual nations, and an American has more +reasons than another to visit Britain.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN in 1833 Emerson first visited England, +his chief interest was in a few great +men whose writings had inspired him with a desire +to see their faces. He met Coleridge, Wordsworth, +Landor and Carlyle; but he had few opportunities +to become acquainted with the English people.</p> + +<p>In 1847 he was invited to give a course of lectures +before various Mechanics’ Institutes in +different parts of England. This visit gave him +an opportunity to compare the Englishman at +home with his own countrymen. The results of +his observations were embodied in a volume entitled +“English Traits.” This book differs from +the other works of Emerson in that it follows a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +distinct method. The writer gives us a picture +of England and the English as he saw them in the +middle years of the nineteenth century. The book +gives the impressions of a philosophic traveler +who was anxious to get beneath the surface and +get at the secrets of power. He treats of wealth, +race, literature, journalism, aristocracies, religion, +education.</p> + +<p>Emerson differs from his contemporary Americans +in treating England not as “the mother +country,” but as a foreign country. The result +of this is a detachment of mind which enables him +to give judgments which are free from prejudice. +The thing which impressed Emerson the most +was the robustness of the people. There was a +rude vigor which had not been impaired by centuries +of civilization. The Englishman seemed a +better animal than the American. In common +sense, in practical sagacity, in the adoption of +means to ends the English manifested themselves +to be a masterful race.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Their self-respect, their faith in causation, +and their realistic logic or coupling of means +to ends have given them the leadership of the +modern world. Montesquieu said, ‘No people +have true common sense but those who were born +in England.’ This common sense is a perception +of all the conditions of our earthly existence, of +laws that can be stated, and of laws that cannot +be stated, or that are learned only by practice, in +which allowance for friction is made. They are +impious in their skepticism of theory, and in +high departments they are cramped and sterile. +But the unconditional surrender to facts, and the +choice of means to reach their ends, are as admirable +as with ants and bees.</p> + +<p>“The bias of the nation is a passion for utility. +They love the lever, the screw and pulley, the +Flanders draught-horse, the waterfall, windmills, +tide mills, the sea and the wind to bear +their freight-ships. More than the diamond Koh-i-noor, +which glitters among their crown-jewels, +they prize that dull pebble which is wiser than a +man, whose poles turn themselves to the poles of +the world, and whose axis is parallel to the axis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> +of the world. Now, their toys are steam and +galvanism. They are heavy at the fine arts, but +adroit at the coarse; not good in jewelry or +mosaics, but the best iron-masters, colliers, wood-combers, +and tanners in Europe. They apply +themselves to agriculture, to draining, to resisting +encroachment of sea, wind, travelling sands, cold +and wet subsoil; to fishery, to manufacture of +indispensable staples,—salt, plumbago, leather, +wool, glass, pottery and brick,—to bees and silkworms; +and by their steady combinations they +succeed. A manufacturer sits down to dinner +in a suit of clothes which was wool on a sheep’s +back at sunrise. You dine with a gentleman on +venison, pheasant, quail, pigeons, poultry, mushrooms +and pineapples, all the growth of his estate. +They are neat husbands for ordering all their +tools pertaining to house and field. All are well +kept. There is no want and no waste. They +study use and fitness in their building, in the order +of their dwellings and in their dress. The Frenchman +invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the +shirt. The Englishman wears a sensible coat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> +buttoned to the chin, of rough but solid and lasting +texture. If he is a lord he dresses a little worse +than a commoner. They have diffused the taste +for plain substantial hats, shoes and coats through +Europe. They think him the best dressed man, +whose dress is so fit for his use that you cannot +notice or remember to describe it.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There is a delightful chapter on English manners.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The Englishman is very petulant and precise +about his accommodation at inns and on the +roads; a quiddle about his toast and his chop, and +every species of convenience, and loud and pungent +in his expressions of impatience at any neglect. +His vivacity betrays itself at all points, in +his manners, in his respiration and the inarticulate +noises he makes in clearing the throat,—all significant +of burly strength. He has stamina; he can +take the initiative in emergencies. He has that +<i>aplomb</i> which results from a good adjustment +of the moral and physical nature and the obedience<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> +of all the powers to the will; as if the axes +of his eyes were united to his backbone and only +moved with the trunk.</p> + +<p>“This vigour appears in the incuriosity and +stony neglect, each of every other. Each man +walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, gesticulates, +and, in every manner, acts and suffers without +reference to the bystanders, in his own fashion, +only careful not to interfere with them or annoy +them; not that he is trained to neglect the eyes +of his neighbours,—he is really occupied with +his own affair, and does not think of them. Every +man in this polished country consults only his +convenience, as much as a solitary pioneer in +Wisconsin. I know not where any personal eccentricity +is so freely allowed, and no man gives +himself any concern with it. An Englishman +walks in a pouring rain, swinging his closed umbrella +like a walking stick; wears a wig, or a +shawl, or a saddle, or stands on his head, and no +remark is made. And as he has been doing this +for several generations it is now in the blood.</p> + +<p>“In short, every one of these islanders is an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> +island himself, safe, tranquil, incommunicable. +In a company of strangers you would think him +deaf; his eyes never wander from his table and +newspaper. He is never betrayed into any curiosity +or unbecoming emotion. They have all been +trained in one severe school of manners, and +never put off the harness. He does not give his +hand. He does not let you meet his eye. It is +almost an affront to look a man in the face without +being introduced. In mixed or in select companies +they do not introduce persons; so that a +presentation is a circumstance as valid as a contract. +Introductions are sacraments. He withholds +his name. At the hotel he is hardly willing +to whisper it to the clerk at the book-office. If +he gives you his private address on a card, it is +like an avowal of friendship; and his bearing on +being introduced is cold, even though he is seeking +your acquaintance and is studying how he +shall serve you.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In regard to America the Englishman was in +those days apt to be condescending.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The English dislike the American structure of +society, whilst yet trade, mills, public education +and chartism are doing what they can to create +in England the same social condition. America +is the paradise of the economists; is the favourable +exception invariably quoted to the rules of ruin; +but when he speaks directly of the Americans, +the islander forgets his philosophy and remembers +his disparaging anecdotes.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson’s criticism of the England which he +saw is of interest to-day because most Englishmen +would agree with it. It is a penetrating study +of a period that has now passed away. From the +consideration of defects he turns to the wealth +and plenitude of the English nature, and the essential +soundness of character.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I feel in regard to this aged England with the +possessions, honours and trophies, and also with +the infirmities of a thousand years gathering +around her, inevitably committed to many old +customs which cannot be suddenly changed;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +pressed upon by the transitions of trade, and new +and all incalculable modes, fabrics, arts and competing +populations,—I see her not dispirited, not +weak but well remembering that she has seen dark +days before; indeed with a kind of instinct that +she sees rather better in a cloudy day, and that in +the storm of battle and calamity she has a secret +vigor and a pulse like a cannon. I see her in her +old age not decrepit but young and still daring to +believe in her power of endurance and expansion.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c17">CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">AMONG HIS BOOKS</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>I put the duty of being read invariably on the +author. If he is not read, whose fault is it?</i>”</p> + +<p class="r">—<span class="smcap">Emerson’s Journal</span>, 1854.</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">L</span>IVING as he did in the midst of the New England +colleges, one may wonder why Emerson +did not find a place in some chair of literature. +Longfellow, Lowell and Holmes were professors. +Why was not Emerson sought for as a teacher of +youth?</p> + +<p>The question occurred to him more than once, +but he answers it in a characteristic fashion. The +reason why he was not asked, he says, was because +those in authority thought he was not fitted for +such a position, and he had a suspicion that they +were right.</p> + +<p>I am ready to concur in this judgment. Professor +Emerson, I am sure, would have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +embarrassed by a row of students conscientiously +taking notes and giving docile assent to his +challenging sentences with a keen eye to the marks +that were to be the reward of their attention.</p> + +<p>Emerson’s attempts to be didactic were uniformly +unfortunate. He could not command his +moods for any systematic exposition. He confesses +that the ways of the academic scholar were +always an astonishment to him. His thoughts +would not “stay put.” In the course of a year +he managed to get through with a respectable +amount of work, but it came occasionally. When +he knew that he ought to write a lecture, it quickened +his wits to write a poem for the <i>Dial</i>, and +when the editor of the <i>Dial</i> demanded a poem, +it stirred his mind to a new effort at prose composition. +Having found that this method answered +best for his own constitution, he became +reconciled to it, but it could not be recommended +by a professor to his students. Neither could his +favorite method of reading, beginning at the end +of the book and reading backward, with wide +intervals between the acts, be recommended, although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +it has its advantages as a method of testing. +If there is a suspicion that the apples in a +basket have been “deaconed,” the skeptical buyer +will reverse the order in which they appear. The +fruit looks different bottom side up.</p> + +<p>But the chief disability of Emerson as a formal +teacher of literature takes us back to the consideration +to which attention was drawn in the first +chapter. His mind has its real affinity to the +thinkers of antiquity, to whom books were not an +object of special interest. The proper study of +mankind was man and nature. The book was only +the record of some fellow-student, useful as stimulating +his own thought.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“It seems meritorious to read; but from every +thing but history or the works of the old commanding +authors I come back with the conviction +that the slightest <i>wood thought</i>, the least significant +native emotion of my own, is more to me.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Bibliolatry, in the wide sense of book worship, +had no more uncompromising enemy. “We are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> +too civil to books. For a few golden sentences +we will turn over and actually read a volume of +four or five hundred pages.”</p> + +<p>One can imagine Emerson’s intonation as he +expressed his wonder that we would actually read +four or five hundred pages for the sake of a +golden sentence which might be concealed in +them. The great art of the reader was to pass +quickly over the desert place in order to linger +long in the green oasis.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The colleges, whilst they provide us with libraries, +furnish no professor of books; and, I +think, no chair is so much wanted. In a library +we are surrounded by many hundreds of dear +friends, but they are imprisoned by an enchanter +in these paper and leathern boxes; and, though +they know us, and have been waiting two, ten, or +twenty centuries for us,—some of them,—and +are eager to give us a sign, and unbosom themselves, +it is the law of their limbo that they must +not speak until spoken to; and as the enchanter +has dressed them, like battalions of infantry, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> +coat and jacket of one cut, by the thousand and +ten thousand, your chance of hitting on the right +one is to be computed by the arithmetical rule of +Permutation and Combination,—not a choice out +of three caskets, but out of half a million caskets +all alike. But it happens in our experience, that +in this lottery there are at least fifty or a hundred +blanks to a prize. It seems, then, as if some charitable +soul, after losing a great deal of time among +the false books, and alighting upon a few true +ones which made him happy and wise, would do +a right act in naming those which have been +bridges or ships to carry him safely over dark +morasses and barren oceans, into the heart of +sacred cities, into palaces and temples. This +would be best done by those great masters of +books who from time to time appear,—the Fabricii, +the Seldens, Magliabechis, Scaligers, Mirandolas, +Bayles, Johnsons, whose eyes sweep the +whole horizon of learning. But private readers, +reading purely for love of the book, would serve +us by leaving each the shortest note of what he +found.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> + +<p>“There are books; and it is practicable to read +them, because they are so few. We look over +with a sigh the monumental libraries of Paris, of +the Vatican and the British Museum. In 1858 +the number of printed books in the Imperial +Library at Paris was estimated at eight hundred +thousand volumes, with an annual increase of +twelve thousand volumes; so that the number of +printed books extant to-day may easily exceed a +million. It is easy to count the number of pages +which a diligent man can read in a day, and the +number of years which human life in favourable +circumstances allows to reading; and to demonstrate +that, though he should read from dawn till +dark, for sixty years, he must die in the first +alcoves. But nothing can be more deceptive than +this arithmetic, where none but a natural method +is really pertinent. I visit occasionally the Cambridge +Library, and I can seldom go there without +renewing the conviction that the best of it all +is already within the four walls of my study at +home. The inspection of the catalogue brings me +continually back to the few standard writers who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +are on every private shelf; and to these it can +afford only the most slight and casual additions. +The crowds and centuries of books are only commentary +and elucidation, echoes and weakeners +of these few great voices of Time.”</p> +</div> + +<p>For the mere book worm he had little respect.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“And yet—and yet—I hesitate to denounce +reading as aught inferior and mean. When visions +of my books come over me, as I sit writing, +when the remembrance of some poet comes, I +accept it with pure joy, and quit my thinking as +sad, lumbering work, and hasten to my little +heaven.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There were not many authors who were admitted +to his little heaven. They were so congenial +to his own mind that there was no question +of mine and thine. It did not matter what the +subject was so that it was treated in a suggestive +way. The great purpose of literature is to stimulate +the faculty of thinking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“You say, ‘Your reading is irrelevant.’ Yes, +for you, not for me. It makes no difference what +I read. If it is irrelevant, I read it deeper. I +read it till it is pertinent to Nature and the hour +that now passes. A good scholar will find Aristophanes +and Hafiz and Rabelais full of American +history.”</p> +</div> + +<p>His ambition for his own books was that they +might be treated in the same fashion. “I would +have my books read as I read my favorite books, +not with explosion and astonishment, a marvel +and a rocket, but as a friendly and agreeable influence.”</p> + +<p>In his incursions into Book-land he followed +the same method, or lack of method. He read +what pleased him. The best guide to such books +he thought was common fame. Certain books had +pleased generations of readers. This proved that +they were readable.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The best rule of reading will be a method +from nature, and not a mechanical one of hours<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> +and pages. It holds each student to a pursuit of +his native aim, instead of a desultory miscellany. +Let him read what is proper to him, and not waste +his memory on a crowd of mediocrities. As +whole nations have derived their culture from a +single book,—as the Bible has been the literature +as well as the religion of large portions of Europe,—as +Hafiz was the eminent genius of the Persians, +Confucius of the Chinese, Cervantes of the +Spaniards; so, perhaps, the human mind would +be a gainer if all the secondary writers were lost,—say, +in England, all but Shakespeare, Milton +and Bacon,—through the profounder study so +drawn to those wonderful minds. With this pilot +of his own genius, let the student read one, or +let him read many, he will read advantageously. +Doctor Johnson said: ‘Whilst you stand deliberating +which book your son shall read first, another +boy has read both; read anything five hours a day +and you will soon be learned.’</p> + +<p>“Nature is much our friend in this matter. +Nature is always clarifying her water and her +wine. No filtration can be so perfect. She does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> +the same thing by books as by her gases and +plants. There is always a selection in writers, +and then a selection from the selection. All books +that get fairly into the vital air of the world were +written by the successful class, by the affirming +and advancing class, who utter what tens of +thousands feel though they cannot say.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Emerson’s advice is that we should read famous +books, but that we should not approach them as +“classics,” but with the same familiarity with +which we read the daily newspaper. Plato’s +Socrates was not a dignified literary person. We +can know him just as we know a shrewd Yankee +farmer. He may be to the reader a character +whose oddity delights us.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“He was plain as a Quaker in habit and speech, +affected low phrases and illustrations from cocks +and quails, soup-pans, and sycamore-spoons, +grooms and farriers, and unnamable offices,—especially +if he talked with any superfine person. +He had a Franklin-like wisdom. Thus, he showed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +one who was afraid to go on foot to Olympia, +that it was no more than his daily walk within +doors, if continuously extended would easily +reach.</p> + +<p>“Plain old uncle as he was, with his great ears,—an +immense talker,—the rumour ran, that on +one or two occasions, in the war with Bœotia, he +had shown a determination which had covered the +retreat of a troupe; and there was some story that, +under cover of folly, he had, in the city government, +when one day he chanced to hold a seat +there, evinced a courage in opposing singly the +popular voice, which had well-nigh ruined him. +He is very poor, but then he is hardy as a soldier, +and can live on a few olives; usually, in the +strictest sense, on bread and water, except when +entertained by his friends. His necessary expenses +were exceedingly small, and no one else +could live as he did. He wore no under garment; +his upper garment was the same for summer and +winter; and he went barefooted; and it is said +that, to procure the pleasure, which he loves, of +talking at his ease all day with the most elegant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> +and cultivated young men, he will now and then +return to his shop and carve statues, good or bad, +for sale. However that be, it is certain that he +had grown to delight in nothing else than this +conversation; and that, under his hypocritical pretense +of knowing nothing, he attacks and brings +down all the fine speakers, all the fine philosophers +of Athens, whether natives, or strangers from +Asia Minor and the islands. Nobody can refuse +to talk with him, he is so honest, and really curious +to know; a man who was willingly confuted +if he did not speak the truth, and who willingly +confuted others asserting what was false; and +not less pleased when confuted than when confuting; +for he thought not any evil happened to +men of such magnitude as false opinion respecting +the just and unjust. A pitiless disputant, who +knows nothing, but the bounds of whose conquering +intelligence no man had ever reached; whose +temper was imperturbable; whose dreadful logic +was always leisurely and sportive; so careless and +ignorant as to disarm the wariest and draw them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +in the pleasantest manner into horrible doubts +and confusion. But he always knew the way out; +knew it, yet would not tell it. No escape; he +drives them to terrible choices by his dilemmas, +and tosses the Hippiases and Gorgiases, with +their grand reputations, as a boy tosses his balls. +The tyrannous realist!—Meno has discoursed a +thousand times at length on virtue before many +companies and very well, as it appeared to him; +but, at this moment, he cannot even tell what it +is,—this cramp-fish of a Socrates has so bewitched +him.</p> + +<p>“This hard-headed humourist, whose strange +conceits, drollery and <i>bonhommie</i> diverted the +young patricians, whilst the rumour of his sayings +and quibbles gets abroad every day, turns +out, in the sequel, to have a probity as invincible +as his logic, and to be either insane, or, at least, +under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his religion.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In like manner Shakespeare is not to be thought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +of in terms of mere literature. We forget the +technicalities of his art. “He was a full man +who liked to talk.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Some able and appreciating critics think no +criticism on Shakespeare valuable that does not +rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is +falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think +as highly as these critics of his dramatic merit, +but still think it secondary. He was a full man +who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and +images, which, seeking vent, found the drama +next at hand. Had he been less we should have +had to consider how well he filled his place, how +good a dramatist he was,—and he is the best in +the world. But it turns out that what he has to +say is of that weight as to withdraw some attention +from the vehicle; and he is like some saint +whose history is to be rendered into all languages, +into verse and prose, into songs and pictures, and +cut up into proverbs, so that the occasion which +gave the saint’s meaning the form of a conversation, +or of a prayer, or of a code of laws, is immaterial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> +compared with the universality of its +application. So it fares with the wise Shakespeare +and his book of life. He wrote the airs for +all our modern music; he wrote the text of modern +life; the text of manners; he drew the man of +England and Europe; the father of the man in +America; he drew the man, and described the +day, and what is done in it; he read the hearts of +men and women, their probity and their second +thought and wiles; the wiles of innocence, and +the transitions by which virtues and vices slide +into their contraries; he could divide the mother’s +part from the father’s part in the face of the +child, or draw the fine demarcations of freedom +and of fate; he knew the laws of repression +which make the police of nature; and all the +sweets and all the terrors of human lot lay in his +mind as truly but as softly as the landscape lies +on the eye. And the importance of this wisdom +of life sinks the form, as of Drama or Epic, +out of notice. ’Tis like making a question concerning +the paper on which a king’s message is +written.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> + +<p>“Shakespeare is as much out of the category +of eminent authors, as he is out of the crowd.”</p> +</div> + +<p>With this conception of literature Emerson did +not accept the doctrine of those realists who think +that the highest praise of a literary work is that +it gives an exact transcript of actual life. We all +are surrounded by actuality, we do not need to +have some one reproduce for us what we have +every day an opportunity to see for ourselves. +What the man of genius does is to allow us to +become acquainted with the working of his own +mind. And the reader must make sure that it is +the kind of mind that is worth knowing.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c18">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">EMERSON’S HISTORIC SENSE</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>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 become superficial and pedantic. +When a thought of Plato becomes a thought +to me, when a truth that fired the soul of Pindar +fires me, time is no more.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> CRITIC has declared that Emerson was +lacking in the “historic sense.” By this he +means that Emerson had no aptitude for historical +investigation as it has been developed by +modern scholars. He could never have been an +historian like Lord Acton, seeking to get at +the exact truth in regard to all the events of past +periods of time. He was incapable of the fierce +industry with which Thomas Carlyle investigated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +the records of long dead Hohenzollerns. One +Hohenzollern would have been enough for Emerson. +He had no taste for antiquarian research.</p> + +<p>But to say that a man is without the historic +sense is like accusing him of a lack of the sense +of humor. This latter accusation usually means +little more than there is a difference in the taste +for jokes.</p> + +<p>Instead of saying that Emerson lacked the historic +sense, it would be better to inquire as to that +which was characteristic in his attitude to history. +Only when we sympathize with that can we obtain +any benefit from him.</p> + +<p>There are two ways of looking at human history. +One may fix his mind on the differences +between one period and another, or he may be +more profoundly interested in the identities which +he recognizes.</p> + +<p>In the former case, what is seen is a succession +of events and personages each having its little +day and passing away forever. Each is different +from the other, and it is the business of the historian +to note those differences. He is the stage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +manager careful about the entrances and the exits +of the actors, and about the way the lights are +arranged for each scene. There are distinctly +marked periods of time, each with its beginning, +middle and end. This is one way of looking at +history.</p> + +<p>Another way is that of the philosopher who is +interested primarily not in persons or events, but +in the forces of which they are the temporary +manifestations. He perceives not so much the +differences as the identities. This was Emerson’s +habitual point of view. He did not care for the +dead past. So much of it as was really dead he +would decently bury. But that part of it which +was alive he would incorporate into the living +present and treat as of contemporary interest. It +was here that Emerson’s historic sense manifested +itself.</p> + +<p>In the volume called “Representative Men” +Emerson illustrates his conception of History. +“The search after the great men,” he says, “is the +dream of youth, and the most serious occupation +of manhood.” And yet when we have found the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +great man, we find a person very much like ourselves. +We agree with him, which means that he +expresses thoughts that are very like our own. +We are conscious of the fact that he reveals what +is in us as well as in him. Plato, Shakespeare, +Montaigne, Napoleon, were representative men. +There were millions of persons who had the same +qualities, but in less degree. The fact that they +have been appreciated proves their kinship to the +multitude.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The genius of humanity is the right point of +view in history. The qualities abide; the men +who exhibit them have no more nor less, and pass +away; the qualities remain in another brow. No +experience is more familiar. Once you saw +phœnixes, now they are gone; the world is not +therefore disenchanted. The vessels on which +you read sacred emblems turn out to be common +pottery; but the sense of the picture is sacred, +and you may still read them, transferred to the +walls of the world. For a time our teachers +serve us personally, as meters or milestones of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> +progress. Once they were angels of knowledge +and their figures touched the sky. Then we drew +near, saw their means, culture and limits and they +yielded their place to other geniuses. Happy if a +few names remain so high that we have not been +able to read them nearer, and age and comparison +have not robbed them of a ray. But at last we +shall cease to look in men for completeness and +shall content ourselves with their social and delegated +quality. All that respects the individual +is temporary and prospective like the individual +himself, who is ascending out of his limits into a +catholic existence. We have never come at the +true and best benefit of any genius so long as we +believe him an original force.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Here Emerson differed radically from his +friend Carlyle. To Carlyle the hero was an original +force; Luther was more than the Reformation +of the sixteenth century. Cromwell and +Frederick the Great were treated as if they were +creatures who were unlike the Englishmen and +the Prussians whom they governed. To Emerson<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> +they were men who best represented the ideals of +their countrymen.</p> + +<p>To my mind Emerson’s most brilliant bit of +historical criticism is contained in his Essay on +Napoleon. Many have been the descriptions of +the life and character of the great Corsican adventurer. +Emerson makes us see the kind of man +Napoleon was. “Bonaparte was the idol of common +men because he had in transcendent degree +the qualities and powers of common men.”</p> + +<p>He was “a man of stone and iron, capable of +sitting on horseback sixteen or seventeen hours, +of going many days together without rest or +food, except by snatches, and with the speed and +spring of a tiger in action; a man not embarrassed +by any scruples; compact, instant, selfish, +prudent, and of a perception which did not suffer +itself to be balked or misled by any pretences of +others, or any superstition or any heat or haste +of his own.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I call Napoleon the agent or attorney of the +middle classes of modern society; of the throng<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> +who filled the markets, shops, counting houses, +manufactories, ships of the modern world, aiming +to be rich. He was the agitator, the destroyer of +prescription, the internal improver, the liberal, +the radical, the inventor of means, the opener of +doors and markets, the subverter of monopoly +and abuse.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Napoleon’s change from the young revolutionist +to the Emperor was nothing strange. “The +democrat is the young conservative. The aristocrat +is the democrat, ripe and gone to seed—because +both parties stand on the one ground of the +supreme value of property, which one endeavors +to get and the other to keep. Bonaparte may be +said to represent the whole history of this party, +its youth and its age, yes and with poetic justice +its fate in his own.”</p> + +<p>Turn from the Essay on Napoleon to that on +Power. In the description of the village tavern +keeper you will recognize a poor relation of the +great Napoleon. There is the same combination +of force and unscrupulousness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I knew a burly Bonaface who for many years +kept a public house in one of our rural capitals. +He was a knave whom the town could ill spare. +He was a social vascular creature, grasping and +selfish. There is no crime which he did not or +could not commit. But he made good friends of +the selectmen, served them with his best chop +when they supped at his house, and also with his +honor the Judge he was very cordial, grasping +his hand. He introduced all the fiends, male and +female, into the town, and united in his person +the functions of bully, incendiary, swindler, barkeeper +and burglar. He girdled the trees, and +cut off the horses’ tails of the temperance people +in the night. He led the ‘rummies’ and radicals +in the town meeting. Meanwhile, he was civil, +fat and easy in his house, and precisely the most +public-spirited citizen. He was active in getting +the roads repaired and planted with shade trees; +he subscribed for the fountains, the gas and the +telegraph, he introduced the new horse rake, the +new scraper, the baby-jumper and what not that +Connecticut sends to the admiring citizens.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> + +<p>Schoolboys dispute the question—Was the +career of Napoleon Bonaparte beneficial to +Europe? The same question arises in regard to +the public-spirited and disreputable tavern keeper. +Emerson as an historian would not attempt to +give a final verdict. He would insist on having +the facts on both sides presented. And then he +would judge the value of the facts by their correspondence +with his own experience.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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 the image to some reality in our secret experience, +or we shall learn nothing rightly.”</p> +</div> + +<p>One experiences history as he experiences religion. +There are a few passions that are common +to all men. They are the keys to all story +of the past. It is mere pedantry to explain the +worship and the achievements of other ages as +if they were mysteries. After all they are nothing +strange. We have felt the same impulses.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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 labour 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.</p> + +<p>“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 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> +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.</p> + +<p>“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 +vigour 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 fervour, whilst now we +pray with the utmost coldness and very seldom?’</p> + +<p>“The advancing man discovers how deep a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> +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 Æsop, of +Homer, of Hafiz, of Ariosto, of Chaucer, of +Scott, and verifies them with his own head and +hands.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c19">CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">PEACE AND WAR</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>I do not like to speak to the Peace Society, if so +I am to restrain myself in so extreme a privilege as +the use of sword and bullet. For the peace of a man +who has forsworn the use of the bullet seems to me +not peace, but a canting impotence; but with knife +and bullet in my hands, if I from greater bravery +and honor cast them aside, then I know the glory of +peace.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N 1838 Emerson delivered a lecture on War +which has furnished many excellent texts for +thoroughgoing pacifists. And yet in the war for +the preservation of the Union, he threw himself +unreservedly into the conflict. At first sight, it +might seem that under the stress of circumstances +he had given up his earlier convictions.</p> + +<p>Yet the words which I have placed at the head +of this chapter were written at the time he was +making his plea for universal peace. Emerson’s +position was practically unchanged by the events<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +of his time. He was a believer in peace, but it +was the peace of the strong man armed. It was +peace established and maintained by men who +were not to be coerced. Having demonstrated +that they were able to take care of themselves +they could lay aside their arms and trust to moral +force. His lecture was in praise of the glory of +peace which he believed in the end would supersede +the meretricious glories of war.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“War educates the senses, calls into action the +will, perfects the physical constitution, brings +men into such swift and close collision at critical +moments that man measures man. On its own +scale, on the virtues it lives, it endures no counterfeit, +but shakes the whole society until every atom +falls into the place its specific gravity assigns it. +What does war, beginning from the lowest races +and reaching up to man, signify? Is it not manifest +that it covers a great and beneficent principle +which nature has deeply at heart? What is that +principle? It is self help. Nature implants with +life the instinct of self help, perpetual struggle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> +to be, to resist opposition, to attain to freedom +and the security of a permanent, self-defended +being, and to each creature these objects are made +so dear that it risks its life continually in the +struggles for these ends.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But because war has had such uses in the past, +does it follow that it must continue indefinitely?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“At a certain stage of his progress a man fights +if he be of sound mind and body. At a higher +stage he makes no offensive demonstration, but +he is alert to repel injury and of an unconquerable +heart. At a still higher he comes into the region +of holiness, passion has passed from him, his warlike +nature is all converted into an active medicinal +principle, he sacrifices himself, and accepts with +alacrity wearisome tasks of denial and charity; +but being attacked he bears it and turns the other +cheek, as one engaged throughout his being, no +longer to the service of the individual but to the +common soul of man.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There are passages in praise of non-resistance +which sound very much like the words of doctrinaire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> +pacifists. But it is the non-resistance of +the soldier who with arms in his hand will not +use them to revenge a private wrong.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The cause of peace is not the cause of +cowardice. If peace is sought to be defended +or preserved for the safety of the luxurious and +the timid, it is a shame and the peace will be base. +War is better and the peace will be broken. If +peace is to be maintained, it must be by brave men +who have come up to the same height of the hero, +namely the will to carry their life in their hands, +and have gone a step beyond the hero and will not +seek another man’s life—men who by their intellectual +insight or else by their moral education attained +such perception of their own intrinsic +worth that they do not think property or their +own body a sufficient good to be saved by such +dereliction of principle as treating a man like a +sheep.”</p> +</div> + +<p>War is barbarous, peace has possibilities of +heroic achievement, but are these not circumstances<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +under which the good man must fight? +In 1838 Emerson answered, “A wise man will +never impawn his future being and action, and +decide before-hand what he shall do in a given +extreme event. Nature and God will instruct +him what to do.”</p> + +<p>When the extreme event came he had no hesitancy. +In 1862 he wrote, “It is wonderful to see +the unseasonable senility of the Peace Party +through all its masks, blinding their eyes to the +main feature of the war, namely its inevitableness.”</p> + +<p>Heroism is after all the same whether in peace +or in war. It is the deliberate choice of the +highest service possible under the circumstances. +He thinks of the soldier who when war is inevitable +obeys the call of duty as one who is +sacrificed to make peace possible.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“But best befriended of the God</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He who, in evil times,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Warned by an inward voice,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Heeds not the darkness and the dread,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Biding by his rule and choice,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Feeling only the fiery thread<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></div> + <div class="verse indent0">Leading over heroic ground,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Walled with mortal terror round,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the aim which him allures,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the sweet heaven his deed secures.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Peril around, all else appalling,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Cannon in front and leaden rain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Him duty through the clarion calling</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the van called not in vain.</div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Stainless soldier on the walls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Knowing this,—and knows no more,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whoso fights, and whoso falls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Justice triumphs ever more.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c20">CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE FORTUNES OF THE POOR</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>The whole interest of history lies in the fortunes +of the poor.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>O the present-day reader Emerson is least +satisfactory when he touches upon what +we call the problem of poverty. We have in +mind the condition of thousands of persons who +through no fault of their own are condemned to +live in city slums. They are, we believe, victims +of social misadjustment. They can be redeemed +only by social effort.</p> + +<p>When we hear Emerson saying that the whole +interest of history lies in the fortunes of the poor, +we expect to hear him say something bearing +upon our problem. How does he propose to +abolish poverty? We are disappointed. Poverty, +he tells us, is not so bad after all. Indeed +it has many advantages. Sometimes he rises into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> +a strain that reminds us of Saint Francis of +Assisi.</p> + +<p>We can only understand Emerson and Saint +Francis when we define the terms they used. +When Francis sang the praises of my lady Poverty +he was not thinking of the condition of those +who lived in the hideous slums of great cities. +He had in mind the poverty of the Italian peasants +whose fortunes he was glad to share. They +were poor in this world’s goods, but rich in spiritual +resources. They lived in the open air, they +listened to the song of birds, and they were happy +in human companionship.</p> + +<p>The poverty which Emerson praised was the +poverty of the well-born New England youth. +It was a life without luxury, but with endless +opportunity. There was a stimulating of necessity +acting upon natural ambition. The poor +man’s son could aspire to any station in society. +The way was open to him. If he had health he +was to be congratulated as one of the children of +good fortune. This was a theme of which he +never tired.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The poor man’s son is educated. There is +many a humble house in every city, in every +town, where talent and taste, and sometimes +genius, dwell with poverty and labour. Who has +not seen, and who can see unmoved, under a low +roof, the eager, blushing boys discharging as they +can their household chores, and hastening into +the sitting-room to the study of to-morrow’s +merciless lesson, yet stealing time to read one +chapter more of the novel hardly smuggled into +the tolerance of father and mother,—atoning for +the same by some pages of Plutarch or Goldsmith; +the warm sympathy with which they kindle +each other in school-yard, or in barn or woodshed, +with scraps of poetry or song, with phrases +of the last oration, or mimicry of the orator; the +youthful criticism, on Sunday, of the sermons; +the school declamation faithfully rehearsed at +home, sometimes to the fatigue, sometimes to the +admiration of sisters; the first solitary joys of +literary vanity, when the translation or the theme +has been completed, sitting alone near the top of +the house; the cautious comparison of the attractive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +advertisement of the arrival of Macready, +Booth, or Kemble, or of the discourse of a well-known +speaker, with the expense of the entertainment; +the affectionate delight with which +they greet the return of each one after the early +separations which school or business require; the +foresight with which, during such absences, they +hive the honey which opportunity offers, for the +ear and imagination of the others; and the unrestrained +glee with which they disburden themselves +of their early mental treasures when the +holidays bring them again together? What is +the hoop that holds them staunch? It is the iron +band of poverty, of necessity, of austerity, which, +excluding them from the sensual enjoyments +which make other boys too early old, has directed +their activity in safe and right channels, and +made them, despite themselves, reverers of the +grand, the beautiful, and the good. Ah! short-sighted +students of books, of Nature, and of +man! too happy, could they know their advantages. +They pine for freedom from that mild +parental yoke; they sigh for fine clothes, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> +rides, for the theater, and premature freedom and +dissipation, which others possess. Woe to them, +if their wishes were crowned! The angels that +dwell with them, and are weaving laurels of life +for their youthful brows, are Toil, and Want, +and Truth, and Mutual Faith.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In the last fifty years there have been vast +social changes. Even in America we have begun +to feel the pressure of population on the means of +subsistence. The young man can not obtain a +farm by the simple device of going West. And +yet America is still a land of opportunity. It is +still “a poor man’s country” even though the poor +man has to be more alert than formerly in order +to win success.</p> + +<p>It is still true that inherited wealth is not necessary +for the attainment of the most desirable +things. One may be born poor and yet be a child +of good fortune.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“In America, the necessity of clearing the forest, +laying out town and street, and building +every house and barn and fence, then church and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> +town-house, exhausted such means as the Pilgrims +brought, and made the whole population +poor; and the like necessity is still found in each +new settlement in the Territories. These needs +gave their character to the public debates in every +village and state. I have been often impressed at +our country town-meetings with the accumulated +virility, in each village, of five or six or eight or +ten men, who speak so well, and so easily handle +the affairs of the town. I often hear the business +of a little town (with which I am most familiar) +discussed with a clearness and thoroughness, +and with a generosity, too, that would have satisfied +me had it been in one of the larger capitals. +I am sure each one of my readers has a +parallel experience. And every one knows that +in every town or city is always to be found a certain +number of public-spirited men, who perform, +unpaid, a great amount of hard work in the interest +of the churches, of schools, of public grounds, +works of taste and refinement. And as in civil +duties, so in social power and duties. Our gentlemen +of the old school, that is, of the school of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> +Washington, Adams, and Hamilton, were bred +after English types, and that style of breeding +furnished fine examples in the last generation; +but, though some of us have seen such, I doubt +they are all gone. But nature is not poorer to-day. +With all our haste, and slipshod ways, and +flippant self-assertion, I have seen examples of +new grace and power in address that honour the +country. It was my fortune not long ago, with +my eyes directed on this subject, to fall in with +an American to be proud of. I said never was +such force, good meaning, good sense, good action, +combined with such domestic lovely behaviour, +such modesty and persistent preference +for others. Wherever he moved he was the benefactor. +It is of course that he should ride well, +shoot well, sail well, keep house well, administer +affairs well, but he was the best talker, also, in +the company; what with a perpetual practical wisdom, +with an eye always to the working of the +thing, what with the multitude and distinction of +his facts (and one detected continually that he +had a hand in everything that has been done),<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> +and in the temperance with which he parried all +offence, and opened the eyes of the person he +talked with without contradicting him. Yet I +said to myself, How little this man suspects, with +his sympathy for men and his respect for lettered +and scientific people, that he is not likely, in any +company, to meet a man superior to himself. And +I think this is a good country, that can bear such +a creature as he is.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c21">CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c sp">THE CUTTING EDGE</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<i>It (courage) gives the cutting edge to every profession.</i>”</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE virtue which Emerson insisted upon +as essential was courage. In the ruder +contacts of life it is common enough, but it is +needed equally in time of peace.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“There is a courage of the cabinet as well as +a courage of the field, a courage of manners in +private assemblies that enables one man to speak +masterly to a hostile company whilst another man +who can easily face a cannon’s mouth does not +open his own.</p> + +<p>“There is the courage of the merchant in dealing +with his trade, by which dangerous turns of +affairs are met and prevailed over. Merchants +recognize as much gallantry, well judged too, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> +the conduct of a wise and upright man of business +in difficult times, as soldiers in a soldier.</p> + +<p>“There is a courage in the treatment of every +art by a master in architecture, in sculpture, in +painting and in poetry, cheering the mind of spectator +or receiver as by true strokes of genius, +which yet no wise implies the presence of physical +valor in the artist. This is the courage of +genius in every kind. A certain quantity of +power belongs to a certain quantity of faculty. +The beautiful voice in church goes sounding on, +and covers up in its volume, as in a cloak, all the +defects in the choir. The singers I observe all +yield to it, and so the fair singer indulges her instinct, +<i>and dares and dares because she knows she +can</i>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There could not be a more perfect illustration +of the kind of courage which Emerson admired +than the voice of the singer directed by a sure +sense of power. It does not domineer and yet it +dominates.</p> + +<p>Emerson felt that the America of his day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +exhibited courage in many directions. It faced +the material problems with an indomitable energy. +But he felt a lack of the cutting edge in dealing +with intellectual problems. The American scholars +seemed to him tame-spirited. They were not +sure of themselves, and were followers rather +than leaders.</p> + +<p>In his oration before the Phi Beta Kappa +Society of Harvard in 1837, he made a bold +attack on the education of the day and ended with +a plea for the courage of the intellect. The +scholar must develop a heroism of his own.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“In self trust are all the virtues comprehended. +Free should the scholar be,—free and brave. +Free even to the definition of freedom—without +any hindrance which does not arise from his own +constitution. Brave; for fear is a thing which a +scholar by his very function puts behind him. +Fear always springs from ignorance.”</p> +</div> + +<p>He does not belong to a protected class.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“If he seeks a temporary peace by the diversion +of his thoughts from politics or vexed questions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +hiding his head like an ostrich in the flowering +bushes, peeping into microscopes and turning +rhymes, as a boy whistles to keep his courage up. +So is the danger a danger still; so is the fear +worse. Manlike let him turn and face it. Let +him look into its eye, and search its nature, inspect +its origin—see the whelping of this lion—which +lies no great way back; he will then find in +himself a perfect comprehension of its nature and +extent; he will have made his hands meet on the +other side, and can henceforth defy it and pass +on superior. The world is his who can see +through its pretension. What deafness, what +stone-blind custom, what overgrown error you +behold is there only by sufferance,—by your sufferance. +See it to be a lie and you have already +dealt it a mortal blow.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In 1876, in an address at the University of +Virginia, Emerson returns to the same theme.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“The scholar is the right hero. He is brave +because he sees the omnipotence of that which +inspires him. Is there only one courage and one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> +warfare? I cannot manage sword and rifle: can +I not therefore be brave? I thought there were +as many courages as men. Is an armed man the +only hero? Is a man only the breach of a gun or +the haft of a bowie knife? Men of thought fail +in fighting down malignity, because they wear +other armor than their own. Let them decline +henceforward foreign methods and foreign courages. +Let them do that which they <i>can</i> do. Let +them fight by their strength and not by their +weakness....</p> + +<p>“We have many revivals of religion. We have +had once what was called a revival of Letters. I +wish to see a revival of the human mind. To see +men’s sense of duty extend to the cherishing and +use of their intellectual powers: their religion +should go with their thought and hallow it.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In his celebrated address to the Cambridge +Divinity School, Emerson insisted on a spiritual +courage which makes of religion an independent +force.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Let me admonish you, first of all, to go alone, +to refuse the good models, even those which are +sacred to the imagination of men, and dare to +love God without mediator or veil. Friends +enough you will find who will hold up to your +emulation, Wesleys and Oberlins, saints and +prophets. Thank God for these good men, but +say, ‘I also am a man.’...</p> + +<p>“Yourself a new-born bard of the Holy Ghost,—cast +behind you all conformity, and acquaint +men at first hand with Deity. Look to it first +only, that fashion, custom, authority, pleasure +and money are nothing to you,—are not bandages +over your eyes, that you cannot see,—but live +with the privilege of the immeasurable mind.</p> + +<p>“Let us study the grand strokes of rectitude; +a bold benevolence, an independence of friends, +so that not the unjust wishes of those who love +us shall impair our freedom, but we shall resist +for truth’s sake the freest flow of kindness, and +appeal to sympathies far in advance; and what is +the highest form in which we know this beautiful +element, that it is taken for granted, that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> +right, the brave, the generous step will be taken +by it, and nobody thinks of commending it.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In the lines entitled “Worship” he returns to +the same theme. The essence of real worship is +spiritual courage. It is the “sword of the spirit,” +and it has a cutting edge.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“This is he, who, felled by foes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He to captivity was sold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But him no prison-bars would hold:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though they sealed him in a rock,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mountain chains he can unlock:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thrown to lions for their meat,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The crouching lion kissed his feet:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Bound to the stake, no flames appalled,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But arched o’er him an honouring vault.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This is he men miscall Fate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Threading dark ways, arriving late,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But ever coming in time to crown</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He is the oldest, and best known,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">More near than aught thou call’st thy own,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet, greeted in another’s eyes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Disconcerts with glad surprise.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Floods with blessings unawares.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Severing rightly his from thine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which is human, which divine.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="c22">CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> + +<p class="c">TERMINUS</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>It is time to be old,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>To take in sail:—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>The god of bounds,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Who sets to seas a shore,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Came to me in his fatal rounds,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And said: ‘No more!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>No farther shoot</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Fancy departs: no more invent;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Contract thy firmament</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>To compass of a tent.</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>There’s not enough for this and that,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Make thy option which of two;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Economize the failing river,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Not the less revere the Giver,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Leave the many and hold the few.</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Timely wise accept the terms,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Soften the fall with wary foot;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>A little while</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Still plan and smile,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And, fault of novel germs,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Mature the unfallen fruit.</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Bad husbands of their fires,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Who, when they gave thee breath,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Failed to bequeath<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>The needful sinew stark as once,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>The Baresark marrow to thy bones,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>But left a legacy of ebbing veins,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.’</i></div> + </div><div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“<i>As the bird trims her to the gale,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>I trim myself to the storm of time,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>I man the rudder, reef the sail,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>‘Lowly faithful, banish fear,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Right onward drive unharmed;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>The port, well worth the cruise, is near,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And every wave is charmed.’</i>”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>O the man of action the approach of age +is dreaded because it means defeat. The +strong man conscious of failing powers yields to +one stronger than himself because younger.</p> + +<p>To Emerson, as a man thinking, the great +weakness of age was to be found in its lack of +faith in ideals. He saw old men who accepted +the actual and denied the possibility of what they +had not been able to achieve. They praised the +past time and looked askance at the threatening +future. From the timidities of age which are +often mistaken for wisdom, he asked to be delivered, +and his prayer was granted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p> + +<p>He had lived through a transition period in +thought. Almost all his contemporaries, including +those who were younger than himself, have +left in their later utterances a record of disillusion. +Carlyle, Ruskin, Matthew Arnold and Tennyson +were inclined to sing dirges over a beautiful +age of faith which had vanished before the +advance of science. James Russell Lowell, with +all his sturdy Americanism yielded to the same +impulse. There was an acknowledgment of +spiritual defeat. It might be expressed in gallant +language, but the meaning was none the less +clear.</p> + +<p>To Emerson this so-called disillusion was only +another illusion. He speaks of the man “who +during all his years of health has planted himself +on the side of progress, but who as soon as he +begins to die, checks his forward play, calls in +his troops, and becomes conservative. All conservatives +are such from personal defects. They +can only, like invalids, act on the defensive.”</p> + +<p>One thing he resolved to do, to “obey the voice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> +at eve obeyed at prime.” In this he was eminently +successful.</p> + +<p>Doctor Holmes speaks delicately and discriminatingly +of “the decline of Emerson’s working +faculties.” That exactly describes what happened. +The working faculties gradually failed, +memory became less clear, but spiritual insight +and loyalty to youthful ideals remained to the +last.</p> + +<p>While yet a young man, he had written down +certain resolutions by which he wished to guide +his life. Seldom has any one been more consistent +in following his principles.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Thou shalt not profess that which thou dost +not believe.</p> + +<p>“Thou shalt not heed the voice of man when it +agrees not with the voice of God in thine own +soul.</p> + +<p>“Thou shalt study and obey the laws of the +Universe, and they will be thy fellow servants.</p> + +<p>“Nature shall be to thee as a symbol. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> +life of the soul in conscious union with the Infinite +shall be for thee the only real existence.</p> + +<p>“Teach men that each generation begins the +world afresh, in perfect freedom; that the present +is not the prisoner of the past, but that to-day +holds captive all the yesterdays, to judge, to accept, +to reject their teachings, as they are shown +by its own morning sun.</p> + +<p>“To thy fellow countrymen thou shalt preach +the gospel of the New World, that here, here in +America, is the home of man, that here is the +promise of a new and more excellent social state +than history has recorded.”</p> +</div> + +<p>As to death, he had always been unafraid. +When it came at the end of his seventy-ninth +year, it found him in the mood that was habitual +to him. He had long ago learned the lesson.</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Teach me your mood, O patient stars!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who climb each night the ancient sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Leaving on space no shade, no scars,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">No trace of age, no fear to die.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p class="c">THE END</p> + + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="c">BOOKS BY</p> +</div> + +<p class="c up">RALPH WALDO EMERSON</p> + +<p class="c">From the list of HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br> + +His Authorized Publishers</p> + + +<p>EMERSON’S JOURNALS:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Edited by Edward W. Emerson and Waldo Emerson +Forbes. <i>A chronological record of Emerson’s life from +1820 to 1876, published in a style uniform with the Centenary +Edition of his Works. Complete in ten volumes, +which are sold either separately or as a set.</i></p> + +<p>“No more remarkable history of the human intellect in +its untrammeled development has ever been written,” +said the <i>Literary Digest</i> of this intimate record of +Emerson’s spiritual and intellectual development. All +Emerson’s nobility of thought and felicity of expression +appear at their best in these volumes, while beyond +this they have a deep human interest as a fresh +and living picture of the man and his period. From +every point of view the Journals rank with the best of +Emerson’s writings, and without them his Works are +incomplete.</p> +</div> + +<p>EMERSON’S WORKS:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>New Centenary Edition with portraits, biographical +sketch, notes and index. Also published in the Riverside +Pocket Edition. Flexible leather bindings</i>:</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Nature, Addresses, and Lectures</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Essays: First Series</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Essays: Second Series</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Representative Men</span><br> +<span class="smcap">English Traits</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Conduct of Life</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Society and Solitude</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Letters and Social Aims</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Poems</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Lectures and Biographical Sketches</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Miscellanies</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Natural History of Intellect and Other Papers</span><br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>For information regarding the format and price of these +and of the many other editions of Emerson’s separate and +collected writings, write to<br> +———————————————————————————</p> + +<p class="c"> +4 Park Street         <span class="smcap">Houghton Mifflin</span>         Boston, Mass.<br> +</p> + +<div class="transnote"> + +<p class="c">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> + +<p>Repetitive heading before page 1 has been removed.</p> + +<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.</p> + +<p>Perceived typographical errors have been changed.</p> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78986 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78986-h/images/cover.jpg b/78986-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f81a55 --- /dev/null +++ b/78986-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78986-h/images/fig1.jpg b/78986-h/images/fig1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..006d604 --- /dev/null +++ b/78986-h/images/fig1.jpg diff --git a/78986-h/images/fig2.jpg b/78986-h/images/fig2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ded77ef --- /dev/null +++ b/78986-h/images/fig2.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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