Ralph Waldo Emerson (18031882). The Complete Works. 1904. Vol. VI. The Conduct of Life
CAN rules or tutors educate
The semigod whom we await?
He must be musical,
Alive to gentle influence
Of landscape and of sky,
And tender to the spirit-touch
Of mans or maidens eye:
But, to his native centre fast,
Shall into Future fuse the Past,
And the worlds flowing fates in his own mould recast.
THE WORD1 of ambition at the present day is Culture. Whilst all the world is in pursuit of power, and of wealth as a means of power, culture corrects the theory of success. A man is the prisoner of his power. A topical memory makes him an almanac; a talent for debate, a disputant; skill to get money makes him a miser, that is, a beggar. Culture reduces these inflammations by invoking the aid of other powers against the dominant talent, and by appealing to the rank of powers. It watches success. For performance, nature has no mercy, and sacrifices the performer to get it done; makes a dropsy or a tympany of him. If she wants a thumb, she makes one at the cost of arms and legs, and any excess of power in one part is usually paid for at once by some defect in a contiguous part.
Our efficiency depends so much on our concentration, that nature usually in the instances where a marked man is sent into the world, overloads him with bias, sacrificing his symmetry to his working power.2 It is said a man can write but one book; and if a man have a defect, it is apt to leave its impression on all his performances. If she creates a policeman like Fouché,3 he is made up of suspicions and of plots to circumvent them. The air, said Fouché, is full of poniards. The physician Sanctorius spent his life in a pair of scales, weighing his food. Lord Coke valued Chaucer highly because the Canon Yemans Tale illustrates the statute fifth Hen. IV. chap. 4, against alchemy. I saw a man who believed the principal mischiefs in the English state were derived from the devotion to musical concerts. A freemason, not long since, set out to explain to this country that the principal cause of the success of General Washington was the aid he derived from the freemasons.
But worse than the harping on one string, nature has secured individualism by giving the private person a high conceit of his weight in the system. The pest of society is egotists. There are dull and bright, sacred and profane, coarse and fine egotists. It is a disease that like influenza falls on all constitutions. In the distemper known to physicians as chorea, the patient sometimes turns round and continues to spin slowly on one spot. Is egotism a metaphysical variety of this malady? The man runs round a ring formed by his own talent, falls into an admiration of it, and loses relation to the world.4 It is a tendency in all minds. One of its annoying forms is a craving for sympathy. The sufferers parade their miseries, tear the lint from their bruises, reveal their indictable crimes, that you may pity them. They like sickness, because physical pain will extort some show of interest from the bystanders, as we have seen children who finding themselves of no account when grown people come in, will cough till they choke, to draw attention.5
This distemper is the scourge of talent,of artists, inventors and philosophers. Eminent spiritualists shall have an incapacity of putting their act or word aloof from them and seeing it bravely for the nothing it is. Beware of the man who says, I am on the eve of a revelation. It is speedily punished, inasmuch as this habit invites men to humor it, and, by treating the patient tenderly, to shut him up in a narrower selfism and exclude him from the great world of Gods cheerful fallible men and women. Let us rather be insulted, whilst we are insultable.6 Religious literature has eminent examples, and if we run over our private list of poets, critics, philanthropists and philosophers, we shall find them infected with this dropsy and elephantiasis, which we ought to have tapped.
This goitre of egotism is so frequent among notable persons that we must infer some strong necessity in nature which it subserves; such as we see in the sexual attraction. The preservation of the species was a point of such necessity that nature has secured it at all hazards by immensely overloading the passion, at the risk of perpetual crime and disorder. So egotism has its root in the cardinal necessity by which each individual persists to be what he is.
This individuality is not only not inconsistent with culture, but is the basis of it. Every valuable nature is there in its own right, and the student we speak to must have a mother-wit invincible by his culture,which uses all books, arts, facilities, and elegancies of intercourse, but is never subdued and lost in them. He only is a well-made man who has a good determination. And the end of culture is not to destroy this, God forbid! but to train away all impediment and mixture and leave nothing but pure power.7 Our student must have a style and determination, and be a master in his own specialty. But having this, he must put it behind him. He must have a catholicity, a power to see with a free and disengaged look every object. Yet is this private interest and self so overcharged that if a man seeks a companion who can look at objects for their own sake and without affection or self-reference, he will find the fewest who will give him that satisfaction; whilst most men are afflicted with a coldness, an incuriosity, as soon as any object does not connect with their self-love. Though they talk of the object before them, they are thinking of themselves, and their vanity is laying little traps for your admiration.
But after a man has discovered that there are limits to the interest which his private history has for mankind, he still converses with his family, or a few companions,perhaps with half a dozen personalities that are famous in his neighborhood. In Boston the question of life is the names of some eight or ten men. Have you seen Mr. Allston, Doctor Channing, Mr. Adams, Mr. Webster, Mr. Greenough? Have you heard Everett, Garrison, Father Taylor, Theodore Parker? Have you talked with Messieurs Turbinewheel, Summitlevel, and Lacofrupees? Then you may as well die. In New York the question is of some other eight, or ten, or twenty. Have you seen a few lawyers, merchants and brokers,two or three scholars, two or three capitalists, two or three editors of newspapers? New York is a sucked orange. All conversation is at an end when we have discharged ourselves of a dozen personalities, domestic or imported, which make up our American existence. Nor do we expect anybody to be other than a faint copy of these heroes.
Life is very narrow. Bring any club or company of intelligent men together again after ten years, and if the presence of some penetrating and calming genius could dispose them to frankness, what a confession of insanities would come up! The causes to which we have sacrificed, Tariff or Democracy, Whigism or Abolition, Temperance or Socialism would show like roots of bitterness and dragons of wrath; and our talents are as mischievous as if each had been seized upon by some bird of prey which had whisked him away from fortune, from truth, from the dear society of the poets;8some zeal, some bias, and only when he was now gray and nerveless was it relaxing its claws and he awaking to sober perceptions.
Culture is the suggestion, from certain best thoughts, that a man has a range of affinities through which he can modulate the violence of any master-tones that have a droning preponderance in his scale, and succor him against himself. Culture redresses his balance, puts him among his equals and superiors, revives the delicious sense of sympathy and warns him of the dangers of solitude and repulsion.
It is not a compliment but a disparagement to consult a man only on horses, or on steam, or on theatres, or on eating, or on books, and, whenever he appears, considerately to turn the conversation to the bantling he is known to fondle. In the Norse heaven of our forefathers, Thors house had five hundred and forty floors; and mans house has five hundred and forty floors.9 His excellence is facility of adaptation and of transition, through many related points, to wide contrasts and extremes. Culture kills his exaggeration, his conceit of his village or his city. We must leave our pets at home when we go into the street, and meet men on broad grounds of good meaning and good sense. No performance is worth loss of geniality.10 T is a cruel price we pay for certain fancy goods called fine arts and philosophy. In the Norse legend, All-fadir did not get a drink of Mimirs spring (the fountain of wisdom) until he left his eye in pledge. And here is a pedant that cannot unfold his wrinkles, nor conceal his wrath at interruption by the best, if their conversation do not fit his impertinency,here is he to afflict us with his personalities. T is incident to scholars that each of them fancies he is pointedly odious in his community. Draw him out of this limbo of irritability. Cleanse with healthy blood his parchment skin. You restore to him his eyes which he left in pledge at Mimirs spring. If you are the victim of your doing, who cares what you do? We can spare your opera, your gazetteer, your chemic analysis, your history, your syllogisms. Your man of genius pays dear for his distinction. His head runs up into a spire, and, instead of a healthy man, merry and wise, he is some mad dominie. Nature is reckless of the individual. When she has points to carry, she carries them. To wade in marshes and sea-margins is the destiny of certain birds, and they are so accurately made for this that they are imprisoned in those places. Each animal out of its habitat would starve. To the physician, each man, each woman, is an amplification of one organ. A soldier, a locksmith, a bank-clerk and a dancer could not exchange functions. And thus we are victims of adaptation.
The antidotes against this organic egotism are the range and variety of attractions, as gained by acquaintance with the world, with men of merit, with classes of society, with travel, with eminent persons, and with the high resources of philosophy, art and religion; books, travel, society, solitude.
The hardiest skeptic who has seen a horse broken, a pointer trained, or who has visited a menagerie or the exhibition of the Industrious Fleas, will not deny the validity of education.11 A boy, says Plato, is the most vicious of all wild beasts; and in the same spirit the old English poet Gascoigne says, A boy is better unborn than untaught. The city breeds one kind of speech and manners; the back country a different style; the sea another; the army a fourth. We know that an army which can be confided in may be formed by discipline; that by systematic discipline all men may be made heroes: Marshal Lannes said to a French officer, Know, Colonel, that none but a poltroon will boast that he never was afraid. A great part of courage is the courage of having done the thing before. And in all human action those faculties will be strong which are used. Robert Owen said, Give me a tiger, and I will educate him. T is inhuman to want faith in the power of education, since to meliorate is the law of nature; and men are valued precisely as they exert onward or meliorating force. On the other hand, poltroonery is the acknowledging an inferiority to be incurable.
Incapacity of melioration is the only mortal distemper. There are people who can never understand a trope or any second or expanded sense given to your words, or any humor; but remain literalists, after hearing the music and poetry and rhetoric and wit of seventy or eighty years. They are past the help of surgeon or clergy. But even these can understand pitchforks and the cry of Fire! and I have noticed in some of this class a marked dislike of earthquakes.12
Let us make our education brave and preventive. Politics is an after-work, a poor patching. We are always a little late. The evil is done, the law is passed, and we begin the uphill agitation for repeal of that of which we ought to have prevented the enacting. We shall one day learn to supersede politics by education. What we call our root-and-branch reforms, of slavery, war, gambling, intemperance, is only medicating the symptoms. We must begin higher up, namely in Education.
Our arts and tools give to him who can handle them much the same advantage over the novice as if you extended his life, ten, fifty, or a hundred years. And I think it the part of good sense to provide every fine soul with such culture that it shall not, at thirty or forty years, have to say, This which I might do is made hopeless through my want of weapons.
But it is conceded that much of our training fails of effect; that all success is hazardous and rare; that a large part of our cost and pains is thrown away. Nature takes the matter into her own hands, and though we must not omit any jot of our system, we can seldom be sure that it has availed much, or that as much good would not have accrued from a different system.
Books, as containing the finest records of human wit, must always enter into our notion of culture. The best heads that ever existed, Pericles, Plato, Julius Cæsar, Shakspeare, Goethe, Milton, were well-read, universally educated men, and quite too wise to undervalue letters. Their opinion has weight, because they had means of knowing the opposite opinion. We look that a great man should be a good reader, or in proportion to the spontaneous power should be the assimilating power. Good criticism is very rare and always precious. I am always happy to meet persons who perceive the transcendent superiority of Shakspeare over all other writers. I like people who like Plato. Because this love does not consist with self-conceit.13
But books are good only as far as a boy is ready for them. He sometimes gets ready very slowly. You send your child to the schoolmaster, but t is the schoolboys who educate him. You send him to the Latin class, but much of his tuition comes, on his way to school, from the shop-windows. You like the strict rules and the long terms; and he finds his best leading in a by-way of his own, and refuses any companions but of his own choosing. He hates the grammar and Gradus, and loves guns, fishing-rods, horses and boats. Well, the boy is right, and you are not fit to direct his bringing-up if your theory leaves out his gymnastic training. Archery, cricket, gun and fishing-rod, horse and boat, are all educators, liberalizers; and so are dancing, dress and the street talk; and provided only the boy has resources, and is of a noble and ingenuous strain, these will not serve him less than the books. He learns chess, whist, dancing and theatricals. The father observes that another boy has learned algebra and geometry in the same time. But the first boy has acquired much more than these poor games along with them. He is infatuated for weeks with whist and chess; but presently will find out, as you did, that when he rises from the game too long played, he is vacant and forlorn and despises himself. Thenceforward it takes place with other things, and has its due weight in his experience. These minor skills and accomplishments, for example, dancing, are tickets of admission to the dress-circle of mankind, and the being master of them enables the youth to judge intelligently of much on which otherwise he would give a pedantic squint. Landor said, I have suffered more from my bad dancing than from all the misfortunes and miseries of my life put together. Provided always the boy is teachable (for we are not proposing to make a statue out of punk), football, cricket, archery, swimming, skating, climbing, fencing, riding, are lessons in the art of power, which it is his main business to learn;riding, specially, of which Lord Herbert of Cherbury said, A good rider on a good horse is as much above himself and others as the world can make him. Besides, the gun, fishing-rod, boat and horse, constitute, among all who use them, secret free-masonries. They are as if they belong to one club.14
There is also a negative value in these arts. Their chief use to the youth is not amusement, but to be known for what they are, and not to remain to him occasions of heart-burn. We are full of superstitions. Each class fixes its eyes on the advantages it has not; the refined, on rude strength; the democrat, on birth and breeding. One of the benefits of a college education is to show the boy its little avail. I knew a leading man in a leading city, who, having set his heart on an education at the university and missed it, could never quite feel himself the equal of his own brothers who had gone thither. His easy superiority to multitudes of professional men could never quite countervail to him this imaginary defect. Balls, riding, wine-parties and billiards pass to a poor boy for something fine and romantic, which they are not; and a free admission to them on an equal footing, if it were possible, only once or twice, would be worth ten times its cost, by undeceiving him.
I am not much an advocate for travelling, and I observe that men run away to other countries because they are not good in their own, and run back to their own because they pass for nothing in the new places. For the most part, only the light characters travel. Who are you that have no task to keep you at home? I have been quoted as saying captious things about travel; but I mean to do justice. I think there is a restlessness in our people which argues want of character.15 All educated Americans, first or last, go to Europe; perhaps because it is their mental home, as the invalid habits of this country might suggest. An eminent teacher of girls said, the idea of a girls education is, whatever qualifies her for going to Europe. Can we never extract this tape-worm of Europe from the brain of our countrymen? One sees very well what their fate must be. He that does not fill a place at home, cannot abroad. He only goes there to hide his insignificance in a larger crowd. You do not think you will find anything there which you have not seen at home? The stuff of all countries is just the same. Do you suppose there is any country where they do not scald milk-pans, and swaddle the infants, and burn the brushwood, and broil the fish? What is true anywhere is true everywhere. And let him go where he will, he can only find so much beauty or worth as he carries.16
Of course, for some men, travel may be useful. Naturalists, discoverers and sailors are born. Some men are made for couriers, exchangers, envoys, missionaries, bearers of despatches, as others are for farmers and workingmen. And if the man is of a light and social turn, and nature has aimed to make a legged and winged creature, framed for locomotion, we must follow her hint and furnish him with that breeding which gives currency, as sedulously as with that which gives worth. But let us not be pedantic, but allow to travel its full effect. The boy grown up on a farm, which he has never left, is said in the country to have had no chance, and boys and men of that condition look upon work on a railroad, or drudgery in a city, as opportunity. Poor country boys of Vermont and Connecticut formerly owed what knowledge they had to their peddling trips to the Southern States.17 California and the Pacific Coast is now the university of this class, as Virginia was in old times. To have some chance is their word. And the phrase to know the world, or to travel, is synonymous with all mens ideas of advantage and superiority. No doubt, to a man of sense, travel offers advantages. As many languages as he has, as many friends, as many arts and trades, so many times is he a man. A foreign country is a point of comparison wherefrom to judge his own. One use of travel is to recommend the books and works of home,we go to Europe to be Americanized; and another, to find men. For as nature has put fruits apart in latitudes, a new fruit in every degree, so knowledge and fine moral quality she lodges in distant men. And thus, of the six or seven teachers whom each man wants among his contemporaries, it often happens that one or two of them live on the other side of the world.
Moreover, there is in every constitution a certain solstice when the stars stand still in our inward firmament, and when there is required some foreign force, some diversion or alternative to prevent stagnation.18 And, as a medical remedy, travel seems one of the best. Just as a man witnessing the admirable effect of ether to lull pain, and meditating on the contingencies of wounds, cancers, lockjaws, rejoices in Dr. Jacksons benign discovery,19 so a man who looks at Paris, at Naples, or at London, says, If I should be driven from my own home, here at least my thoughts can be consoled by the most prodigal amusement and occupation which the human race in ages could contrive and accumulate.
Akin to the benefit of foreign travel, the æsthetic value of railroads is to unite the advantages of town and country life, neither of which we can spare. A man should live in or near a large town, because, let his own genius be what it may, it will repel quite as much of agreeable and valuable talent as it draws, and, in a city, the total attraction of all the citizens is sure to conquer, first or last, every repulsion, and drag the most improbable hermit within its walls some day in the year. In town he can find the swimming-school, the gymnasium, the dancing-master, the shooting-gallery, opera, theatre and panorama; the chemists shop, the museum of natural history; the gallery of fine arts; the national orators, in their turn; foreign travellers, the libraries and his club. In the country he can find solitude and reading, manly labor, cheap living and his old shoes; moors for game, hills for geology and groves for devotion.20 Aubrey writes, I have heard Thomas Hobbes say, that, in the Earl of Devons house, in Derbyshire, there was a good library and books enough for him, and his lordship stored the library with what books he thought fit to be bought. But the want of good conversation was a very great inconvenience, and, though he conceived he could order his thinking as well as another, yet he found a great defect. In the country, in long time, for want of good conversation, ones understanding and invention contract a moss on them, like an old paling in an orchard.21
Cities give us collision. It is said, London and New York take the nonsense out of a man. A great part of our education is sympathetic and social. Boys and girls who have been brought up with well-informed and superior people show in their manners an inestimable grace. Fuller says that William, Earl of Nassau, won a subject from the King of Spain, every time he put off his hat. You cannot have one well-bred man without a whole society of such. They keep each other up to any high point. Especially women; it requires a great many cultivated women,saloons of bright, elegant, reading women, accustomed to ease and refinement, to spectacles, pictures, sculpture, poetry, and to elegant society,22in order that you should have one Madame de Staël. The head of a commercial house or a leading lawyer or politician is brought into daily contact with troops of men from all parts of the country, and those too the driving-wheels, the business men of each section, and one can hardly suggest for an apprehensive man a more searching culture. Besides, we must remember the high social possibilities of a million of men. The best bribe which London offers to-day to the imagination is that in such a vast variety of people and conditions one can believe there is room for persons of romantic character to exist, and that the poet, the mystic and the hero may hope to confront their counterparts.
I wish cities could teach their best lesson,of quiet manners. It is the foible especially of American youth,pretension. The mark of the man of the world is absence of pretension. He does not make a speech, he takes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, is nobody, dresses plainly, promises not at all, performs much, speaks in monosyllables, hugs his fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil tongues their sharpest weapon. His conversation clings to the weather and the news, yet he allows himself to be surprised into thought and the unlocking of his learning and philosophy. How the imagination is piqued by anecdotes of some great man passing incognito, as a king in gray clothes; of Napoleon affecting a plain suit at his glittering levee;23 of Burns or Scott or Beethoven or Wellington or Goethe, or any container of transcendent power, passing for nobody; of Epaminondas, who never says anything, but will listen eternally; of Goethe, who preferred trifling subjects and common expressions in intercourse with strangers, worse rather than better clothes, and to appear a little more capricious than he was. There are advantages in the old hat and box-coat. I have heard that throughout this country a certain respect is paid to good broadcloth; but dress makes a little restraint; men will not commit themselves. But the box-coat is like wine, it unlocks the tongue, and men say what they think. An old poet says,
It is odd that our people should havenot water on the brain, but a little gas there. A shrewd foreigner said of the Americans that whatever they say has a little the air of a speech. Yet one of the traits down in the books as distinguishing the Anglo-Saxon is a trick of self-disparagement. To be sure, in old, dense countries, among a million of good coats a fine coat comes to be no distinction, and you find humorists. In an English party a man with no marked manners or features, with a face like red dough, unexpectedly discloses wit, learning, a wide range of topics and personal familiarity with good men in all parts of the world, until you think you have fallen upon some illustrious personage. Can it be that the American forest has refreshed some weeds of old Pictish barbarism just ready to die out,the love of the scarlet feather, of beads and tinsel? The Italians are fond of red clothes, peacock plumes and embroidery; and I remember one rainy morning in the city of Palermo the street was in a blaze with scarlet umbrellas. The English have a plain taste. The equipages of the grandees are plain. A gorgeous livery indicates new and awkward city wealth. Mr. Pitt, like Mr. Pym, thought the title of Mister good against any king in Europe. They have piqued themselves on governing the whole world in the poor, plain, dark Committee-room which the House of Commons sat in, before the fire.
Whilst we want cities as the centres where the best things are found, cities degrade us by magnifying trifles. The countryman finds the town a chop-house, a barbers shop. He has lost the lines of grandeur of the horizon, hills and plains, and with them sobriety and elevation.25 He has come among a supple, glib-tongued tribe, who live for show, servile to public opinion. Life is dragged down to a fracas of pitiful cares and disasters. You say the gods ought to respect a life whose objects are their own; but in cities they have betrayed you to a cloud of insignificant annoyances:
What is odious but noise, and people who scream and bewail? people whose vane points always east, who live to dine, who send for the doctor, who coddle themselves, who toast their feet on the register, who intrigue to secure a padded chair and a corner out of the draught. Suffer them once to begin the enumeration of their infirmities and the sun will go down on the unfinished tale. Let these triflers put us out of conceit with petty comforts. To a man at work, the frost is but a color; the rain, the wind, he forgot them when he came in. Let us learn to live coarsely, dress plainly, and lie hard. The least habit of dominion over the palate has certain good effects not easily estimated. Neither will we be driven into a quiddling abstemiousness. T is a superstition to insist on a special diet. All is made at last of the same chemical atoms.27
A man in pursuit of greatness feels no little wants. How can you mind diet, bed, dress, or salutes or compliments, or the figure you make in company, or wealth, or even the bringing things to pass,when you think how paltry are the machinery and the workers? Wordsworth was praised to me in Westmoreland for having afforded to his country neighbors an example of a modest household where comfort and culture were secured without display. And a tender boy who wears his rusty cap and outgrown coat, that he may secure the coveted place in college and the right in the library, is educated to some purpose.28 There is a great deal of self-denial and manliness in poor and middle-class houses in town and country, that has not got into literature and never will, but that keeps the earth sweet; that saves on superfluities, and spends on essentials; that goes rusty and educates the boy; that sells the horse but builds the school; works early and late, takes two looms in the factory, three looms, six looms, but pays off the mortgage on the paternal farm, and then goes back cheerfully to work again.
We can ill spare the commanding social benefits of cities; they must be used, yet cautiously and haughtily,and will yield their best values to him who best can do without them. Keep the town for occasions, but the habits should be formed to retirement. Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is, to genius, the stern friend, the cold, obscure shelter where moult the wings which will bear it farther than suns and stars.29 He who should inspire and lead his race must be defended from travelling with the souls of other men, from living, breathing, reading and writing in the daily, time-worn yoke of their opinions. In the morning,solitude; said Pythagoras; that nature may speak to the imagination, as she does never in company, and that her favorite may make acquaintance with those divine strengths which disclose themselves to serious and abstracted thought. T is very certain that Plato, Plotinus, Archimedes, Hermes, Newton, Milton, Wordsworth, did not live in a crowd, but descended into it from time to time as benefactors; and the wise instructor will press this point of securing to the young soul in the disposition of time and the arrangements of living, periods and habits of solitude. The high advantage of university life is often the mere mechanical one, I may call it, of a separate chamber and fire,which parents will allow the boy without hesitation at Cambridge, but do not think needful at home.30 We say solitude, to mark the character of the tone of thought; but if it can be shared between two or more than two, it is happier and not less noble. We four, wrote Neander to his sacred friends, will enjoy at Halle the inward blessedness of a civitas Dei, whose foundations are forever friendship. The more I know you, the more I dissatisfy and must dissatisfy all my wonted companions. Their very presence stupefies me. The common understanding withdraws itself from the one centre of all existence.
Solitude takes off the pressure of present importunities, that more catholic and humane relations may appear. The saint and poet seek privacy to ends the most public and universal, and it is the secret of culture to interest the man more in his public than in his private quality. Here is a new poem, which elicits a good many comments in the journals and in conversation. From these it is easy at last to gather the verdict which readers passed upon it; and that is, in the main, unfavorable. The poet, as a craftsman, is only interested in the praise accorded to him, and not in the censure, though it be just. And the poor little poet hearkens only to that, and rejects the censure as proving incapacity in the critic. But the poet cultivated becomes a stockholder in both companies,say Mr. Curfew in the Curfew stock, and in the humanity stock;and, in the last, exults as much in the demonstration of the unsoundness of Curfew, as his interest in the former gives him pleasure in the currency of Curfew. For the depreciation of his Curfew stock only shows the immense values of the humanity stock. As soon as he sides with his critic against himself, with joy, he is a cultivated man.31
We must have an intellectual quality in all property and in all action, or they are naught. I must have children, I must have events, I must have a social state and history, or my thinking and speaking want body or basis. But to give these accessories any value, I must know them as contingent and rather showy possessions, which pass for more to the people than to me. We see this abstraction in scholars, as a matter of course; but what a charm it adds when observed in practical men. Bonaparte, like Cæsar, was intellectual, and could look at every object for itself, without affection. Though an egotist à outrance, he could criticise a play, a building, a character, on universal grounds, and give a just opinion. A man known to us only as a celebrity in politics or in trade gains largely in our esteem if we discover that he has some intellectual taste or skill; as when we learn of Lord Fairfax, the Long Parliaments general, his passion for antiquarian studies; or of the French regicide Carnot, his sublime genius in mathematics; or of a living banker, his success in poetry; or of a partisan journalist, his devotion to ornithology. So, if in travelling in the dreary wildernesses of Arkansas or Texas we should observe on the next seat a man reading Horace, or Martial, or Calderon, we should wish to hug him.32
We only vary the phrase, not the doctrine, when we say that culture opens the sense of beauty. A man is a beggar who only lives to the useful, and however he may serve as a pin or rivet in the social machine, cannot be said to have arrived at self-possession. I suffer every day from the want of perception of beauty in people. They do not know the charm with which all moments and objects can be embellished, the charm of manners, of self-command, of benevolence.33 Repose and cheerfulness are the badge of the gentleman,repose in energy. The Greek battle-pieces are calm; the heroes, in whatever violent actions engaged, retain a serene aspect; as we say of Niagara that it falls without speed. A cheerful intelligent face is the end of culture, and success enough. For it indicates the purpose of nature and wisdom attained.
When our higher faculties are in activity we are domesticated, and awkwardness and discomfort give place to natural and agreeable movements. It is noticed that the consideration of the great periods and spaces of astronomy induces a dignity of mind and an indifference to death. The influence of fine scenery, the presence of mountains, appeases our irritations and elevates our friendships. Even a high dome, and the expansive interior of a cathedral, have a sensible effect on manners. I have heard that stiff people lose something of their awkwardness under high ceilings and in spacious halls. I think sculpture and painting have an effect to teach us manners and abolish hurry.
But, over all, culture must reinforce from higher influx the empirical skills of eloquence, or of politics, or of trade and the useful arts. There is a certain loftiness of thought and power to marshal and adjust particulars, which can only come from an insight of their whole connection. The orator who has once seen things in their divine order will never quite lose sight of this, and will come to affairs as from a higher ground, and though he will say nothing of philosophy, he will have a certain mastery in dealing with them, and an incapableness of being dazzled or frighted, which will distinguish his handling from that of attorneys and factors. A man who stands on a good footing with the heads of parties at Washington, reads the rumors of the newspapers and the guesses of provincial politicians with a key to the right and wrong in each statement, and sees well enough where all this will end. Archimedes will look through your Connecticut machine at a glance, and judge of its fitness. And much more a wise man who knows not only what Plato, but what Saint John can show him, can easily raise the affair he deals with to a certain majesty. Plato says Pericles owed this elevation to the lessons of Anaxagoras.34 Burke descended from a higher sphere when he would influence human affairs. Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, Washington, stood on a fine humanity, before which the brawls of modern senates are but pot-house politics.
But there are higher secrets of culture, which are not for the apprentices but for proficients. These are lessons only for the brave. We must know our friends under ugly masks. The calamities are our friends. Ben Jonson specifies in his address to the Muse:
Get him the times long grudge, the courts ill-will,
We wish to learn philosophy by rote, and play at heroism. But the wiser God says, Take the shame, the poverty and the penal solitude that belong to truth-speaking. Try the rough water as well as the smooth. Rough water can teach lessons worth knowing. When the state is unquiet, personal qualities are more than ever decisive. Fear not a revolution which will constrain you to live five years in one. Dont be so tender at making an enemy now and then. Be willing to go to Coventry sometimes, and let the populace bestow on you their coldest contempts. The finished man of the world must eat of every apple once. He must hold his hatreds also at arms length, and not remember spite. He has neither friends nor enemies, but values men only as channels of power.
He who aims high must dread an easy home and popular manners. Heaven sometimes hedges a rare character about with ungainliness and odium, as the burr that protects the fruit. If there is any great and good thing in store for you, it will not come at the first or the second call, nor in the shape of fashion, ease, and city drawing-rooms. Popularity is for dolls. Steep and craggy, said Porphyry, is the path of the gods. Open your Marcus Antoninus. In the opinion of the ancients he was the great man who scorned to shine, and who contested the frowns of fortune. They preferred the noble vessel too late for the tide, contending with winds and waves, dismantled and unrigged, to her companion borne into harbor with colors flying and guns firing. There is none of the social goods that may not be purchased too dear, and mere amiableness must not take rank with high aims and self-subsistency.36
Bettine replies to Goethes mother, who chides her disregard of dress,If I cannot do as I have a mind in our poor Frankfort, I shall not carry things far. And the youth must rate at its true mark the inconceivable levity of local opinion. The longer we live the more we must endure the elementary existence of men and women; and every brave heart must treat society as a child, and never allow it to dictate.
All that class of the severe and restrictive virtues, said Burke, are almost too costly for humanity. Who wishes to be severe? Who wishes to resist the eminent and polite, in behalf of the poor, and low, and impolite? And who that dares do it can keep his temper sweet, his frolic spirits? The high virtues are not debonair, but have their redress in being illustrious at last. What forests of laurel we bring, and the tears of mankind, to those who stood firm against the opinion of their contemporaries! The measure of a master is his success in bringing all men round to his opinion twenty years later.
Let me say here that culture cannot begin too early. In talking with scholars, I observe that they lost on ruder companions those years of boyhood which alone could give imaginative literature a religious and infinite quality in their esteem. I find too that the chance for appreciation is much increased by being the son of an appreciator, and that these boys who now grow up are caught not only years too late, but two or three births too late, to make the best scholars of.37 And I think it a presentable motive to a scholar, that, as in an old community a well-born proprietor is usually found, after the first heats of youth, to be a careful husband, and to feel a habitual desire that the estate shall suffer no harm by his administration, but shall be delivered down to the next heir in as good condition as he received it;so a considerate man will reckon himself a subject of that secular melioration by which mankind is mollified, cured and refined; and will shun every expenditure of his forces on pleasure or gain which will jeopardize this social and secular accumulation.
The fossil strata show us that Nature began with rudimental forms and rose to the more complex as fast as the earth was fit for their dwelling-place; and that the lower perish as the higher appear. Very few of our race can be said to be yet finished men. We still carry sticking to us some remains of the preceding inferior quadruped organization. We call these millions men; but they are not yet men.38 Half engaged in the soil, pawing to get free, man needs all the music that can be brought to disengage him. If Love, red Love, with tears and joy; if Want with his scourge; if War with his cannonade; if Christianity with its charity; if Trade with its money; if Art with its portfolios; if Science with her telegraphs through the deeps of space and time can set his dull nerves throbbing, and by loud taps on the tough chrysalis can break its walls and let the new creature emerge erect and free,make way and sing pæan! The age of the quadruped is to go out, the age of the brain and of the heart is to come in. The time will come when the evil forms we have known can no more be organized. Mans culture can spare nothing, wants all the material. He is to convert all impediments into instruments, all enemies into power. The formidable mischief will only make the more useful slave. And if one shall read the future of the race hinted in the organic effort of nature to mount and meliorate, and the corresponding impulse to the Better in the human being, we shall dare affirm that there is nothing he will not overcome and convert, until at last culture shall absorb the chaos and gehenna. He will convert the Furies into Muses, and the hells into benefit.39
Note 1. Mr. Emerson reserved his words on the higher and highest aspects of Power for this and the succeeding essay. Culture, as the corrective of Wealth and the preparation for Behavior, rightly took its place between the essays thus named. It is interesting to find in the eleven lines of the motto these favorite beliefs of Emerson; temperament, polarity, the listening, the teachings of solitude and society, reliance on the inspired self, evolution, the flowing, Each and All. Or, to put it differently, he teaches that the perfected man must be, like a compass-needle, delicately responsive to the currents that rule alike in matter and spirit; that he must be open to the influences of Nature and Humanity, and yet, following his proper genius, help on the ascending Creation by the divinity which is in him. [back]
Note 2. Mr. Emerson, always urging the individual to remember that he is a special channel for the flow of power or grace from the universal source, has scattered through notebooks much under the headings Bias and Temperament, often almost seeming equivalent to Fate; as, for instance, this passage from the Koran: If ye hear that a mountain has changed its place, believe it: but if ye hear that a man has changed his disposition, believe it not. But there is a more cheerful view in such entries as the following: Was not this Bias a dainty invention whereby the old worn world and every particle of it should be made wholly new material for you? This thought seems to have been taken as a higher application of that concerning the dew whereby the old, hard, peaked earth is made new each morning and shining with the last touch of the Artists hand. (See Literary Ethics, Nature, Addresses and Lectures.) [back]
Note 4. In the journal for 1841 Mr. Emerson says, I weary of dealing with people, each cased in his several insanity; and, speaking of one, of the many who then sought him from afar, whom kindness and respect for his character prevented him from holding at arms length, adds, I am not large man enough to treat him firmly and unsympathetically as a patient, and if treated equally and sympathetically as sane, his disease makes him the worst of bores. They would not let the Universal, only the particular mind manifest itself in them. [back]
Note 5. With this may be compared the counsel to all persons not to talk of their ailments, to be found in the last pages of Behavior. [back]
Note 6. In Character, in Essays, Second Series, is given the fine answer of Father Taylor, of the Seamens Bethel in Boston, to the admonitions of a Doctor of Divinity. My friend, he said, a man can neither be praised nor insulted. [back]
Note 7. Of a fine girl of so independent and original a character that her conventional friends were troubled, he wrote, O maiden, come into port grandly, or sail with God the seas. [back]
Note 9. In the English notebook, Mr. Emerson wrote, An American, like a German, has many platforms of thought, but an Englishman requires to be treated with tenderness if he wishes to climb. [back]
Note 10. Mr. Emersons guests, especially the younger ones, remembered how he drew them out in conversation and assumed their intelligence and virtue,even their superiority. In conversation, as in the essays, he was always ready to ascend to a new floor and hoped that the new-comer might lead the way. [back]
Note 11. The methods of the American horse-tamer and trainer, Rarey, were attracting great attention here, and even more in England, shortly before the publication of this book. And Mr. Emerson read with interest the accounts of these humble applications of great laws. Journal, 1861. Yesterday I saw Rareys exhibition in Boston. What a piece of clean good sense was the whole performance, the teaching and the doing. An attack on the customary nonsense of nations in one particular. [back]
Note 12. He called those people who wearied him with their conceits monotones. Tea, coffee, music, the press, tobacco, dancing, have been in turn denounced as the sole source of social and political degeneracy, he writes in 1832; and again, But I dread autobiography, which usurps the largest part, sometimes the whole of the discourse of very worthy persons whom I know. [back]
Note 13. Who is the cultivated man? He who can tell me something of Shakspeare that I did not know, but perceive at once to be true. There is the same difference between one learned and one unlearned, said Aristotle, as between the living and the dead. [back]
Note 14. The conditions of the early life of Mr. Emerson and his brothers were such as to debar them from the accomplishments, and he felt their importance, within due bounds, in the bringing up of young people. He himself always had suffered far more than appeared from a sense of awkwardness in company, and to know how to enter a roomful of people properly, if nothing else, he felt to be worth courses at a dancing-school. The riding of his forefathers days had given place in his own to travel by stage or chaise, so that he was never proficient, but it appealed to his imagination and also he felt it an admirable lesson in the art of power, so he took pains that his children should ride. The quotation is from the remarkable autobiography of Edward Lord Herbert, elder brother of George Herbert the poet, a book which Mr. Emerson valued. [back]
Note 15. It was always hard for Mr. Emerson to visit or to take a vacation. Even when he yielded to the urgency of valued friends, his visits were but for a day or two, and then, if any opportunity offered, he would wander off alone to listen to the voice of the woods or of the ocean. His work, he felt, justified his existence, and he must not let slip the gift of each new day. He also felt that he must not defraud his hosts of its gift to them. He said
Note 17. Mr. Alcotts [A. Bronson Alcott, his Life and Philosophy, by F. B. Sanborn and William T. Harris. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1893.] virtue and genius were born in him, and he learned little from the world. Yet he, like many other New England youth, travelled in the South peddling, according to the demands of his customers, education, or Yankee notions in the Connecticut sense, among the country towns and plantations. An exceedingly interesting account of these experiences is found in his biography. [back]
Note 18. When invited to come to read lectures in England in 1847 he wrote to Carlyle: This pleasing dream of going to England dances before me sometimes. It would be, I then fancy, that stimulation which my capricious, languid and languescent study needs. At home no man makes any proper demand upon me, and the audience that I address is a handful of men and women too widely scattered than that they can dictate to me that which they are justly entitled to say. [back]
Note 19. The anæsthetic effects of sulphuric ether were discovered by Dr. Charles T. Jackson of Boston, the brother of Mrs. Emerson, by experiments upon himself. In 1846, he suggested to Mr. W. T. G. Morton, a dentist who had been his pupil, the value of this agent in surgery. After successfully using it in extraction of teeth, Mr. Morton brought it to the notice of Dr. J. C. Warren of the Massachusetts General Hospital, where the first surgical operations were successfully performed without pain, or consciousness to the patient, Mr. Morton administering the ether. [See History of the Discovery of Painless Anæsthesia, by E. W. Emerson, in the Atlantic Monthly, Nov., 1896.] [back]
Note 20. The need of access to the woods and waters of a quiet country village, yet not too far from the city, led Mr. Emerson to settle in the ancestral town. Yet the building of the Fitchburg Railroad in 1844 was a great boon to him, not only for his travel when lecturing, but for access to the libraries of the Athenæum and Harvard College, and the occasional meeting of stimulating friends at the Town and Country Club, and later the Saturday Club. [back]
Note 21. John Aubrey (162597), the English antiquary and writer. Among his works were Letters written by Eminent Persons in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, consisting of memoirs of English poets, and a Life of Hobbes, neither published during his lifetime. [back]
Note 23. The more particularized form of some of these sentences in the journal (1850) may be of interest: Call yourself preacher, peddler, lecturer, tinman, grocer, scrivener, jobber, or whatever lowest name your business admits, and leave your lovers to find the fine name . How the curiosity is piqued by anecdotes of a man in plain gray clothes being Rufus King; of General Taylors slouching farmer dress and averseness to regimentals; of Webster in broad straw hat and fishermans gear at Marshfield; of Napoleon in plain suit in his glittering levee.
Note 25. Whilst Mr. Emerson was still held fast in the town as a preacher, away from the country, he wrote (1833): If a man loves the city, so will his writings love the city; and if a man loves sweet-fern his writings will smell of it. From the car windows he could see his woods on Walden Ledge, and he said, When I pass them on the way to the city, how they reproach me! [back]
Note 26. From Bérangers Les Mirmidons, ou les Funérailles dAchille. [back]
Note 27. Mr. Emerson ate what was set before him with natural appetite, but was simple in his tastes. If he spoke of a dish it was to praise it in an amusing manner, never to find fault with it. He discredited all special rules in diet, believed that a feast or dinner-party was a valuable contrast occasionally to simple fare, which he considered more elegant. He set wine before his guest, and took one glass with him. Discussions on the digestibility of food, he promptly suppressed, and if its composition was mentioned, he broke in with Oh no! it is made of roses, or It is a beautiful crystallization. [back]
Note 28. At one time there was but one greatcoat among the Emerson boys, and their schoolfellows recognized it, and would cry, This is Ralphs day! To-morrow it will be Edwards turn! [back]
Note 29. The lines in the Woodnotes, II., here come to mind, beginning
Note 30. His rules to the earnest student have been often mentioned: Room alone. Keep a Journal. [back]
Note 31. In the journal for 1850 this passage uses Tennysons name where Curfew occurs in the essay, but merely in the abstract, with no personal application. [back]
Note 32. I find a mitigation or solace by providing always a good book for my journeys, as Horace, or Martial, or Goethe,some book which lifts me out of prosaic surroundings, and from which I draw some lasting knowledge. A Greek epigram out of the anthology, a verse of Herrick or Lovelace, are in harmony both with sense and spirit.Inspiration, Letters and Social Aims. [back]
Note 33. This extract, on the opening of the poets eyes to the universal order and beauty, is from the journal of 1841: You defy anybody to have things as good as yours. Hafiz defies you to show him or put him in a condition inopportune and ignoble. Take all you will, and leave him but a corner of nature, a lane, a den, a cow-shed, out of cities, far from letters and taste and culture; he promises to win to that second spot the light of moon and stars, the love of men, the smile of beauty, the homage of art. It shall be painted, and carved, and sung, and celebrated, and visited by pilgrimage in all time to come. [back]
Note 34. Anaxagoras, the Ionian philosopher, came to Athens and did much to elevate the religious conceptions of the better class. He taught that God was the Divine Mind, explained the higher meaning of the mythology and opposed superstition, showing that prodigies were to be explained by natural causes. He showed the reason of eclipses. Popular feeling against his heresies caused his condemnation to death, but Pericles had his sentence commuted to banishment to Lampsacus, where he died, poor, but honored. [back]
Note 37. Dr. Holmes in his story of Elsie Venner dwells much on this necessary ripening of the rude blood through three generations as qualifying for the Brahmin Caste of New England. In the journal for 1851, Mr. Emerson made this note: In Natural Aristocracy, or in Culture, it needs to say, that the instinctive belief of mankind in melioration is plainly indicated in the care which each auto- or (alto-)biographer takes to show that the herd came of good blood; came of kenned folk; that his ancestor was a gentleman two hundred years before. [back]
Note 38. The doctrines of Amelioration and of Evolution so welcome to Emerson appear in a passage in the journal of 1851, in which he likens man, built up out of material of past animal life, to the sword-blades of Damascus, thus: I wish I could get the fact about horse-shoe nails which, after being hammered and worn and recast and hammered and worn, are made up into Damascus steel, which is thus a result and simmering down and last possibility of iron. I believe the tradition is fabulous, but such in nature are men, made up of monads, each of which has held governance of fish or fowl or worm or fly, and is now promoted to be a particle of man. The following definition of Culture is from the journal of 1851. A similar passage occurs in Natural History of Intellect in the volume of that name. Culture, the height of Culture, highest behaviour, consists in the identification of the Ego with the Universe, so that when a man says, I think, I hope, I find,he might properly say, the human race thinks, hopes and finds,he states a fact which commands the understandings and affections of all the company, and yet, at the same time, he shall be able continually to keep sight of his biographical Ego. I had an ague, I had a fortune, my father had black hair, etc., as rhetoric, fun or footman to his public Ego, without impertinence or even confounding them. [back]
Note 39. Mr. Emersons method of dealing with the problem of Evil in the world, his security of faith that even the Furies and the hells are transient phases in a slow but sure ascension,
Lifting better up to best,
recalls an expression of Mr. Woodburys, in his excellent little book [Talks with Emerson, by Charles J. Woodbury. New York: Baker & Taylor Co.], with regard to the different weapons which Carlyle and Emerson used against falsehood, which they destroyed, the one with lightning and the other with light. [back]