like Emerson himself: for all men have not his penetrating eye; they cannot see below the surface, and so long as the wrongdoer succeeds in his wrongdoing and the wicked man is rich and surrounded by friends, so long will he be envied. No matter what his mental turmoil may be, no matter though the poorest beggar in the street have greater peace of mind, to the world at large he appears happy and successful, and men continue to look for retribution in a life to come.

THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR.1

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN,

I GREET you on the recommencement of our literary year. Our anniversary is one of hope, and, perhaps, not enough of labor. We do not meet for games of strength or skill, for the recitation of histories, tragedies, and odes, like the ancient Greeks; for parliaments of love and poesy, like the Troubadours; nor for the advancement of science, like our contemporaries in the British and European capitals. Thus far, our holiday has been simply a friendly sign of the survival of the love of letters amongst a people too busy to give to letters any more. As such, it is precious as the sign of an indestructible instinct. Perhaps the time is already come, when it ought to be, and will be, something else; when the sluggard intellect of this continent will look from under its iron lids, and fill the postponed expectation of the world with something better than the exertions of

1 This oration was delivered in August, 1837, before the Cambridge chapter of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, a society composed of honor students graduated from the various colleges.

2 Public games were a religious institution in ancient Greece. The most important were the Olympic games celebrated in honor of Zeus. At first they comprised simply feats of strength, races, etc.; but later it became customary to indulge in intellectual exercises. Dramatic pieces and discourses were delivered, and artists exhibited their work while the games were in progress.

3 Minstrels of Provence, in southern France, in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. Their poetry was about love and gallantry or about war and chivalry. They sang at public festivals or at the courts of great barons or princes. They were also known as Provençal minstrels.

4 Heavy lids.

mechanical skill.

Our day of dependence, our long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to a close. The millions, that around us are rushing into life, cannot always be fed on the sere remains of foreign harvests. Events, actions arise, that must be sung, that will sing themselves. Who can doubt,

that poetry will revive and lead in a new age, as the star in the constellation Harp, which now flames in our zenith, astronomers announce, shall one day be the polestar1 for a thousand years?

In this hope, I accept the topic which not only usage, but the nature of our association, seem to prescribe to this day,— The AMERICAN SCHOLAR. Year by year, we come up hither to read one more chapter of his biography. Let us inquire what light new days and events have thrown on his character, and his hopes.

It is one of those fables, which, out of an unknown antiquity, convey an unlooked-for wisdom, that the gods, in the beginning, divided Man into men, that he might be more helpful to himself; just as the hand was divided into fingers, the better to answer its end.

The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man,-present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parceled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk,

1 The north star, or the star in the zenith of the north pole of the earth.

and strut about so many walking monsters,

neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.

a good finger, a

Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden1 by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.

In this distribution of functions, the scholar is the delegated intellect. In the right state, he is, Man Thinking. In the degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a mere thinker, or, still worse, the parrot 2 of other men's thinking.

In this view of him, as Man Thinking, the theory of his office is contained. Him nature solicits with all her placid, all her monitory pictures; him the past instructs; him the future invites. Is not, indeed, every man a student, and do not all things exist for the student's behoof? And, finally, is not the true scholar the only true master? But the old oracle said, "All things have two handles: beware of the wrong one."3 In life, too often, the scholar errs with mankind and forfeits his privilege.

Let us

see him in his school, and consider him in reference to the main influences he receives.

I. The first in time and the first in importance of the influences upon the mind is that of nature. Every day, the sun; 4 and, after

3 The teachings of Epictetus (60-120), a Roman Stoic philosopher, have been handed down by one of his pupils, and preserved in two treatises, Discourses of Epictetus, and Enchiridion. From the latter of these works the quotation is made.

4 The predicate must be supplied, -a construction which occurs frequently in this oration.

sunset, night and her stars. Ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows. Every day, men and women, conversing, beholding The scholar is he of all men whom this spectacle

and beholden.

most engages.

1

He must settle its value in his mind. What is nature to him? There is never a beginning, there is never an end, to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always circular power returning into itself. Therein it resembles his own spirit, whose beginning, whose ending, he never can find, so entire, so boundless. Far, too, as her splendors shine, system on system shooting like rays, upward, downward, without center, without circumference, in the mass and in the particle, nature hastens to render account of herself to the mind. Classification begins. To the young mind, everything is individual, stands by itself. By and by, it finds how to join two things, and see in them one nature; then three, then three thousand; and so, tyrannized over by its own unifying2 instinct, it goes on tying things together, diminishing anomalies, discovering roots running under ground, whereby contrary and remote things cohere, and flower out from one stem. It presently learns, that, since the dawn of history, there has been a constant accumulation and classifying of facts. But what is classification but the perceiving that these objects are not chaotic, and are not foreign, but have a law which is also a law of the human mind? The astronomer discovers that geometry, a pure abstraction of the human mind, is the measure of planetary motion. The chemist finds proportions and intelligible method throughout matter; and science is nothing but the finding of analogy, identity, in the most remote parts. The ambitious soul sits down before each refractory fact; one after another, reduces all strange constitutions, all new powers, to their class and their law, and goes on forever to animate the last fiber of organization, the outskirts of nature, by insight.

Thus to him, to this schoolboy under the bending dome of

1 Circular, because without beginning and without end. 2 Uniting into one.