Aldrich used to say that he
would rather have written Emerson's "Bacchus" than any American
poem.
That the pure, high, and tonic mind of Emerson was universal in
its survey of human forces, no one would claim. Certain
limitations in interest and sympathy are obvious. "That horrid
burden and impediment of the soul which the churches call sin,"
to use John Morley's words, occupied his attention but little.
Like a mountain climber in a perilous pass, he preferred to look
up rather than down. He does not stress particularly those old
human words, service and sacrifice. "Anti-scientific, antisocial,
anti-Christian" are the terms applied to him by one of his most
penetrating critics. Yet I should prefer to say "un-scientific,"
"unsocial," and "non-Christian," in the sense in which Plato and
Isaiah are non-Christian. Perhaps it would be still nearer the
truth to say, as Mrs. Lincoln said of her husband, "He was not a
technical Christian." He tends to underestimate institutions of
every kind; history, except as a storehouse of anecdote, and
culture as a steady mental discipline.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159