English 5571 - American Transcendentalism
Jason Hudson
Dr.H--
English 5571
3 February 2003
Emerson's Clarion Call: Is It Practical?
Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist and lecturer of 19th Century America, is said to have put forth "rhetorically complex [and] highly allusive" writing during his career as a literary figure (Rowe 1). His essays are many times asymmetrical, contradictory, and figurative. According to John Carlos Rowe, Emerson's style is not structurally designed, but "proceeds by metaphoric [. . .] changes, in which certain themes are elaborated as you might adopt different perspectives of a single object [. . .] in order to understand it more fully" (7). Although his unconventionality often confuses the most intellectual of listeners, there is a poignancy and beauty to his words that help to propel them. But is the beauty of his rhetoric at the expense of any practical application? His voice, "sweet and appealing," carries a message that inspires men to action (Payne 160). But what is the message? Can its recipients apply it? "The American Scholar," an oration delivered in the fall of 1837 for the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, prompted young men to create an American literary heritage. But throughout his address it seems that Emerson's desire for men to be productive is merely a transcendental notion. Or is it? To answer the question regarding the effectualness of his call to action is to investigate his theoretical ideas and determine whether or not they can be practically applied by the American scholar, who is a patriot, a dignified male, and an intellectual.
Emerson recognizes the United States' potential as an authority over other nations around the world, and that its "poetry [might] revive and lead in [this] new age" (Emerson 58). However, he criticizes the scholar for his lack of productivity. Hoping to stir the emotions of the patriot and stimulate a sense of national pride, Emerson describes America as a nation of inactivity. So here is the learned gentleman, celebrating another year of hope (for progress), but "not enough of labor" (58). He tells them in his introduction that "the time is already come" when the scholar should present a poetry and philosophy of America (58). Emerson's rhetoric creates a sense of urgency here by arguing that there is a lack of vision from the busy American. He states that the occasion for which they are gathered should now be something more than a time to celebrate the voices of the past and to offer the next generation with "the sere remains of foreign harvests" (58). But rather than give practical advice, Emerson deserts the sensible scholar and ascends to a metaphysical plane.
Emerson speaks of a fable of unknown origin about the division of man into individual men in order to illustrate both man "in [his] degenerate state" and "Man Thinking" (59). He appeals to the scholar's sense of dignity by defining the whole man as the compilation of all of his trades. We have thus traded manhood, according to Emerson, and have reduced him to partial men. Instead of a worker feeling a sense of accomplishment in his duty, he becomes merely a means to a dollar, getting lost in the "routine of his craft" (59). Emerson's solution entails the man "return[ing] from his own labor to embrace all the other labors" (59). But in what way is he calling men to embrace the work of others? He concludes his assessment of men divided into various crafts by making him commensurate with a mere thinker or "the parrot of other mens thinking" (59).
But what does the thinking mind think about? How does this speak directly to the question of literary productivity? And where are the limits to its inquiries? Emerson makes it clear that an invaluable influence on the mind is nature. Not only are "[p]articular natural facts [. . .] symbols of particular spiritual facts," as stated in Emersons Nature (1836), but nature, like spirit, is boundless (33). Emerson speaks of nature thus, "There is never a beginning, [. . .] never an end, to the inexplicable continuity [. . .], but always circular power returning into itself" (60). This theory is valuable to the man who wishes to think himself into oblivion, but what does it mean for the reasonable scholar?
Emerson then adds to nature the importance of books as a resource for the purpose of inspiration. His concern, however, is that the Man Thinking has become a "bookworm," and has over-emphasized the validity of the written words of the past (62). He flatters his audience by placing them on even footing with Cicero, Locke, and Bacon, who were once "young men in libraries when they wrote [their] books" (61). He explains that books are a worthy point of departure, but the scholar's "genius looks forward" always (62).
So the thinking man must realize that nature is an infinite resource for interpreting the spirit, and books are a resource for inspiration. Since both of these tools deal with the spirit, the question of practicality again begs an answer. Emerson finally answers this issue by adding one other tool for progress.
Once again, he appeals to the scholar's sense of dignity with the notion that "so-called 'practical men' sneer at speculative men" for their propensity for inaction (64). Emerson makes clear that the 'Man Thinking' must also be 'Man Acting' in his statement, "Action is with the scholar subordinate, but it is essential" (64). But in what way does the thinking man act?
It seems Emerson realizes that he has indeed left his audience with too little practical counsel to suit them. He admits "[he has] dwelt [. . .] tediously upon this abstraction of the Scholar," and promises to add some words of relevance to time and place (70).
Emerson's conclusion is a "clarion call" for young scholars to act (Weinstein). His voice, in the imperative, is clear: "We will walk on our own feet; we will work with our own hands; we will speak our own minds" (74). The action to be taken will occur from within, for the "one thing in the world, of value, is the active soul" (62). For Emerson, the patriot's sense of urgency, the male's desire to be dignified, and the intellectual's exercising of the human mind are all fertile ground for Emerson's complex and abstract rhetoric. Whether or not he speaks the language that all men can understand is debatable. But mustn't we attribute the heritage of our literature to Emerson's bold assertions that the creative mind must act? Without Emerson, would there have been a Thoreau? A Fuller? His encouragement to seek to "know all; [. . .] to dare all" rather than trust the "courtly muses of Europe" seems to have triggered within the souls and minds of the American scholar to act (73). And from this call an American literature has emerged.