Due today: vocabulary 7Due Wednesday 18 January: Thanatopsis essay
Ten minute quick write. Answer the following that relates to Emerson's Nature, "I am a transparent eyeball."
In class, we are reading a background essay on Self-Reliance. (see copy of hand-out below).
For Thursday, please Self-Reliance and the accompanying general information on Emerson. We'll review this on Thursday, with the expectation that everyone has read.
What happened to Wednesday's class, you may ask? The PSAT's are in, and we'll have a debriefing. So once again, make sure you have read this small amount of material for Thursday. And keep in mind that Thanatopsis is due next Wednesday. Note this essay is often used as a writing sample for college applications.
Background reading for Self-Reliance
American Transcendentalism and Analysis of Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Self-Reliance" by Steven A. Carbone II
What began in New England in the early nineteenth-century as a reform of the Congregational Church grew into what some scholars consider to be one of the most monumental movements of religion, philosophy and literature in American history. Humbly, American Transcendentalism began its transformation of the American intellect through a circle of friends, some of whom were former Unitarian ministers themselves. They desired to further reform the church, which they viewed as a “social religion that did not awaken the individual’s realization of his own spirituality” (Versluis 290).
These Transcendentalists drew upon the philosophies and religions of the world to push forth their ideas of the importance of the self in spiritual life. At the forefront of this movement was Ralph Waldo Emerson. Himself a former Unitarian minister, Emerson was and still is viewed as the highest profile member of the “Transcendental Club” that was responsible for the re-thinking of American spirituality (Barna 60). Emerson’s statement regarding the importance of the individual in moral and intellectual development is “Self-Reliance.” His essay supports the American Transcendental movement’s philosophical pillar: that the individual is identical with the world, and that world exists in unity with God. Through this logic, it follows that the individual soul is one with God, thusly eliminating the need for an outside institution (VanSpanckeren Net).
In order to fully understand American Transcendentalism, and Emerson’s place in it, the movement’s origin and evolution must first be explored. The roots of American Transcendentalism reach back into the eighteenth century. Religion in New England had been dominated by Calvinist ideologies, set forth by the Puritan settlers. Calvinist doctrine included the idea of the inherent corruption of human nature and the concept of salvation coming only by the discretion of God himself (Robinson “Transcendentalism” 14). It is important to note here that the Calvinist belief was that the individual had absolutely no control over their ultimate spiritual fate through their actions in life. This orthodox belief asserts the Holy Trinity, through which God presents himself, elects those men chosen for salvation or condemnation - a fate decided before the creation of the world (Hutchison 3).
In the mid eighteenth century, there arose a desire to reform these Calvinist beliefs in order to create a more positive and liberal view of human nature. A number of ministers in Boston wished to bring about a fresh New England theology that stressed the ethical and pious behavior of the individual in the self-determination of their own salvation. This group of liberals, in the early nineteenth century, began to criticize the Congregational Church and its Calvinist ideals, stating that they hindered the individual’s moral growth. This group of liberals eventually gathered behind a spokesman named William Ellery Channing, who argued the case for this fledgling Unitarian movement (Robinson “Transcendentalism” 14-15).
William Ellery Channing, in 1819, assumed the role of “unofficial spokesperson for American Unitarianism.” His sermons and speeches beseeched his audiences to seek the truth for themselves in scripture, in order to pour their findings and feelings into poetry and passion for their newfound ideals (Barna 64-65). Channing’s message stressed the fundamental belief that God was innately part of human nature and that this oneness with God would be supported by rational and reasonable interpretation of Biblical scripture (Hutchison 13).
Channing’s efforts to re-define Unitarianism and establish the self-culture were simultaneously setting the foundation upon which the Transcendentalist movement would be built (Barna 65). Channing’s message of self-development through moral and intellectual growth was reaching a new generation of participants, including Emerson. Plagued by a lack of self-confidence at this time, Emerson was struggling with the decision to commit himself to a career in the ministry. Channing’s poetic style from the pulpit encouraged Emerson, who had previously found Unitarian theological and doctrinal preaching distasteful. Emerson eventually decided, in 1832, to resign from the Unitarian ministry in order to pursue a career as an essayist and orator (Robinson “Transcendentalism” 15-16). This departure from conservative Unitarianism marked the beginnings of the Transcendentalist movement.
In and around Massachusetts, the majority of new Transcendentalists came from Unitarianism. The Unitarian intellectuals of the time still believed and asserted that Christ’s divinity was proven by the miracles documented in the Bible – a claim found by the new Transcendentalists to be unreasonable (Capper 683).
In its earliest days, Transcendentalism was known mostly as a religious movement. Further reform of the church, including more open-minded reading of the Scripture and the questioning of miracles found in the Bible were considered to be most radical for the time. The movement, early on, was pushing for a less formal, less ritualistic religious experience (Worley 267). In 1836 the “Transcendental Club,” comprised of Emerson and a number of his renowned contemporaries, began meeting. This was also the year in which Ralph Waldo Emerson anonymously published his first book, Nature (Versluis 290). From this point forward, the movement took a turn towards a more broad range of target subjects, including philosophy, theology, politics and literature. The diversity of the subject matter of their criticism and writing can be attributed to the range of intellectual interests the group shared, as well as their use of sources from the western tradition and from abroad (Capper 683).
It was in this period that Emerson penned his second collection of Essays, which was published in 1841. Included in it is Emerson’s “Self-Reliance.” It is a near reflection of the self-culture introduced earlier in the Unitarian reform by W.E. Channing. Emerson uses the essay as a vehicle for stressing the importance of the individual’s intellectual and moral development, and for making a defensive statement supporting individualism itself (Belasco 683).
“A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages” (Emerson 684).
From the outset of his essay, Emerson asserts that man should be focusing his attention to his inner self for guidance rather than relying on external religion and religious and philosophical figures. In doing this, he sets out to support the ideology of the individual that lies at the core of Transcendentalism. Robinson indicates that “Self-Reliance” deals with the fall of humanity, and it’s saving throw, disciplined attention to the inner self (Robinson “Grace and Works” 226). As one progresses through Emerson’s work in “Self-Reliance,” it becomes evident that he works through several themes.
1. Acceptance of self is an important theme explored in the essay. “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine Providence has found for you” (Emerson 685). Emerson goes on to describe the childlike mind, which trusts wholly, without the self-doubt typically encountered in an adult mind. This state of mind has a self-possession and self-acceptance on a sub-conscious level, allowing for true, natural intuitive action (Robinson “Grace and Works” 226). For progress as a true individual under the Transcendentalist way of thought to be possible, self-acceptance was paramount. This could occur only through complete trust in a person’s own intuition, without influence from outside forces of tradition, religion or government (Warren 208).
2. The theme of non-conformity. Complete trust in one’s self requires the abandonment of reliance on outside sources.
3. The essences of virtue, genius and life stems from intuition.
"Self-Reliance" by Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Ne te quaesiveris extra." (Do not seek outside yourself)
"Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still." Cast the bantling on the rocks,Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat;Wintered with the hawk and fox,Power and speed be hands and feet.
I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional. The soul always hears an admonition in such lines, let the subject be what it may. The sentiment they instil is of more value than any thought they may contain. To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, — that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost,—— and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato, and Milton is, that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men but what they thought. A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else, to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.
There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.
Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort, and advancing on Chaos and the Dark.
What pretty oracles nature yields us on this text, in the face and behaviour of children, babes, and even brutes! That divided and rebel mind, that distrust of a sentiment because our arithmetic has computed the strength and means opposed to our purpose, these have not. Their mind being whole, their eye is as yet unconquered, and when we look in their faces, we are disconcerted. Infancy conforms to nobody: all conform to it, so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it. So God has armed youth and puberty and manhood no less with its own piquancy and charm, and made it enviable and gracious and its claims not to be put by, if it will stand by itself. Do not think the youth has no force, because he cannot speak to you and me. Hark! in the next room his voice is sufficiently clear and emphatic. It seems he knows how to speak to his contemporaries. Bashful or bold, then, he will know how to make us seniors very unnecessary.
The nonchalance of boys who are sure of a dinner, and would disdain as much as a lord to do or say aught to conciliate one, is the healthy attitude of human nature. A boy is in the parlour what the pit is in the playhouse; independent, irresponsible, looking out from his corner on such people and facts as pass by, he tries and sentences them on their merits, in the swift, summary way of boys, as good, bad, interesting, silly, eloquent, troublesome. He cumbers himself never about consequences, about interests: he gives an independent, genuine verdict. You must court him: he does not court you. But the man is, as it were, clapped into jail by his consciousness. As soon as he has once acted or spoken with eclat, he is a committed person, watched by the sympathy or the hatred of hundreds, whose affections must now enter into his account. There is no Lethe for this. Ah, that he could pass again into his neutrality! Who can thus avoid all pledges, and having observed, observe again from the same unaffected, unbiased, unbribable, unaffrighted innocence, must always be formidable. He would utter opinions on all passing affairs, which being seen to be not private, but necessary, would sink like darts into the ear of men, and put them in fear.
These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.
Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world. I remember an answer which when quite young I was prompted to make to a valued adviser, who was wont to importune me with the dear old doctrines of the church. On my saying, What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within? my friend suggested, — "But these impulses may be from below, not from above." I replied, "They do not seem to me to be such; but if I am the Devil's child, I will live then from the Devil." No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this; the only right is what is after my constitution, the only wrong what is against it. A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition, as if every thing were titular and ephemeral but he. I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. Every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways. If malice and vanity wear the coat of philanthropy, shall that pass? If an angry bigot assumes this bountiful cause of Abolition, and comes to me with his last news from Barbadoes, why should I not say to him, 'Go love thy infant; love thy wood-chopper: be good-natured and modest: have that grace; and never varnish your hard, uncharitable ambition with this incredible tenderness for black folk a thousand miles off. Thy love afar is spite at home.' Rough and graceless would be such greeting, but truth is handsomer than the affectation of love. Your goodness must have some edge to it, — else it is none. The doctrine of hatred must be preached as the counteraction of the doctrine of love when that pules and whines. I shun father and mother and wife and brother, when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why I seek or why I exclude company. Then, again, do not tell me, as a good man did to-day, of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent, I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison, if need be; but your miscellaneous popular charities; the education at college of fools; the building of meeting-houses to the vain end to which many now stand; alms to sots; and the thousandfold Relief Societies; — though I confess with shame I sometimes succumb and give the dollar, it is a wicked dollar which by and by I shall have the manhood to withhold.
Virtues are, in the popular estimate, rather the exception than the rule. There is the man and his virtues. Men do what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world, — as invalids and the insane pay a high board. Their virtues are penances. I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be sound and sweet, and not to need diet and bleeding. I ask primary evidence that you are a man, and refuse this appeal from the man to his actions. I know that for myself it makes no difference whether I do or forbear those actions which are reckoned excellent. I cannot consent to pay for a privilege where I have intrinsic right. Few and mean as my gifts may be, I actually am, and do not need for my own assurance or the assurance of my fellows any secondary testimony.
What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder, because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
The objection to conforming to usages that have become dead to you is, that it scatters your force. It loses your time and blurs the impression of your character. If you maintain a dead church, contribute to a dead Bible-society, vote with a great party either for the government or against it, spread your table like base housekeepers, — under all these screens I have difficulty to detect the precise man you are. And, of course, so much force is withdrawn from your proper life. But do your work, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you shall reinforce yourself. A man must consider what a blindman's-buff is this game of conformity. If I know your sect, I anticipate your argument. I hear a preacher announce for his text and topic the expediency of one of the institutions of his church. Do I not know beforehand that not possibly can he say a new and spontaneous word? Do I not know that, with all this ostentation of examining the grounds of the institution, he will do no such thing? Do I not know that he is pledged to himself not to look but at one side, — the permitted side, not as a man, but as a parish minister? He is a retained attorney, and these airs of the bench are the emptiest affectation. Well, most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief, and attached themselves to some one of these communities of opinion. This conformity makes them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, but false in all particulars. Their every truth is not quite true. Their two is not the real two, their four not the real four; so that every word they say chagrins us, and we know not where to begin to set them right. Meantime nature is not slow to equip us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we adhere. We come to wear one cut of face and figure, and acquire by degrees the gentlest asinine expression. There is a mortifying experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak itself also in the general history; I mean "the foolish face of praise," the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease in answer to conversation which does not interest us. The muscles, not spontaneously moved, but moved by a low usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the face with the most disagreeable sensation.
For nonconformity the world whips you with its displeasure. And therefore a man must know how to estimate a sour face. The by-standers look askance on him in the public street or in the friend's parlour. If this aversation had its origin in contempt and resistance like his own, he might well go home with a sad countenance; but the sour faces of the multitude, like their sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on and off as the wind blows and a newspaper directs. Yet is the discontent of the multitude more formidable than that of the senate and the college. It is easy enough for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes. Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid as being very vulnerable themselves. But when to their feminine rage the indignation of the people is added, when the ignorant and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no concernment.
The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word, because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.
But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? It seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but to bring the past for judgment into the thousand-eyed present, and live ever in a new day. In your metaphysics you have denied personality to the Deity: yet when the devout motions of the soul come, yield to them heart and life, though they should clothe God with shape and color. Leave your theory, as Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
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