30219148 Culture Behaviour Beauty

8/13/2019 30219148 Culture Behaviour Beauty

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CULTUREBEHAVIOUR

BEAUTY

1876RALF WALDO EMERSON


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CULTURE,BEAUTYETC.


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W.C.Rives.

VEST-POCKET bJilLTSiantmrir aitir poplar ^xtiljors.

HE great popularity of the Little Classics has proved anew the truth of Dr. Johnson'sremark : Books that you may carry to the

fire, and hold readily in your hand, are the most use-ful after all. The attractive character of their con-tents has been very strongly commended to publicfavor by the convenient size of the volumes. Thesewere not too large to be carried to the fire or heldreadily in the hand, and consequently they have beenin great request wherever they have become known.The Vest-Pocket Series will consist of volumes

yet smaller than the Little Classics, so small thatthey can indeed be carried in a vest-pocket of properdimensions. Their Lillputian size, legible type, andflexible cloth binding adapt them admirably for thebeguiling (or improving) of short journeys ; and the


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high excellence of their contents makes them desirablealways and everywhere. The series will include the

I choicest productions of such authors asEMERSON, LOWELL,

LONGFELLOW, HOLMES,WH1TTIER, HOWELLS,

HAWTHORNE, HARTE,and others of like fame.They will be beautifully printed, and bound in flex-

ible cloth covers, at a uniform price ofFIFTY CENTS EACH.

The first issues will be as follows : SNOW-BOUND. By John Gkeenleaf Whittier.

Illustrated.EVANGELINE. By Henry Wadsworth I

fellow. Illustrated.POWER, WEALTH, ILLUSIONS. Essays by

Ralph Waldo Emers-CULTURE, BEHAVIOR, BEAUTY. Essays by

Ralph Waldo Emek

JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.,Publishers, Boston.


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Cultusre, BeTicuvior,

Becuxty.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

BOSTONJAMES It. OSGOOD \\D COMPANY,

Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood,


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PSUL

Copyright, i860, byRalph Waldo Emerson.

GIFTWilliam c

ESTATE c*Pfi -, T940

University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co.,Cambridge.


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c^^^y,CONTENTS.

PageCULTURE 5BEHAVIOR 45BEAUTY 79

^S5Y&*


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CULTURE.

CAW rules or tutors educateThe semigod whom we await?He must be musical,Tremulous, impressional,Aluc to gentle inilucnceOf landscape and of sky,And tender to the spirit-touchOf man's or maiden's eyeBut, to his native centre fast,Shall into Future fuse the Past,Aud the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast,


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CULTUREl^^fHE word of amhition at the present day

) is Culture. Whilst all the world is inpursuit of power, and of wealth as a

means of power, culture corrects the theory ofsuccess. A man is the prisoner of his power.A topical memory makes him an almanac; atalent for debate, a disputant ; skill to getmoney makes him a miser, that is, a beggar.Culture reduces these inflammations by invok-ing the aid of other powers againsl the domi-nant talent, and by appealing to the rank ofpowers. It watches success. For perform-ance, Nature has no mercy, and sacrifices theperformer to gel it done ; makes a dropsy ora tympany of him. If she wants a thumb,she makes one at the cost of arms and le


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8 CULTURE.paid for at once by some defect in a contigu-ous part.Our efficiency depends so much on our con-centration, thai Nature usually, in the instanceswhere a marked man is sent into the world,overloads him with bias, sacrificing bis sym-metry to his working power. It is said, noman can write but one book; and it' a manhave a defect, it is apl to leave its impressionon all his performances. If she creates a po-liceman like f'ouche, he is made up of suspi-cions and of plots to circumvent them. Theair, said Fouche, is full of poniards. Thephysician Sanctorius spent his life in a pair ofscales, weighing his food. Lord Coke valuedChaucer highly, because the Canon Yeman'sTale illustrates the statute Hen. V. Chap. 4,against alchemy. I saw a man who believedthe principal mischiefs in the English statewere derived from the devotion to musicalconcerts. A freemason, not long since, setoat to explain to this country, that the prin-cipal cause of tie- success of General Wash-ington was, the aid lie derived from the free-masons.But worse than the harping on one string,

Nature has secured individualism, by giving


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CULTURE. 9the private person a high conceil of his weightin the system. The pest of society is egotists.There-are dull and bright, sacred and profane,coarse and fine egotists. 'T is a disease that,like influenza, hills on all constitutions. Inthe distemper known to physicians as chorea,the patienl sometimes turns round, and con-tinues to spin slowly on one spot, [s egotisma metaphysical varioloid of this malady? Theman runs round a ring formed by his owntalent, tails into an admiration of it, andrelation to the world. It is a tendency in allminds. One of its annoying forms is a crav-ing for sympathy. The sufferers parade theirmiseries, tear the lint from their bruises, re-veal their indictable crimes, that you maypity them. They like sickness, because phys-ical pain will extort some show of interestfrom the hv-standers. as we have seen children,who, finding themselves of mi account whengrown people come in, will cough till theychoke, to draw attention.

This distemper is the scourge of talent, of artists, inventors, and philosophers. Emi-nent spiritualists shall have an incapacity ofputting their act or word aloof from them,and seeing it bravely for the nothing it is.


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10 CULTURE.Beware of the man who says, T am on theeve of a revelation. It is speedily punished,inasmuch as this habit invites men to humorit. ami by treating the patient tenderly, toshut him up in a narrower selfisnij and ex-clude him from the greal world of God'scheerful fallible men and women. Let usrather be insulted whilst we are insultable.Religious literature has eminent examples,and if we run over our private list of poets,critics, philanthropists, and philosophers, weshall find them infected w it h this drops) andelephantiasis, which we ought tp have tapped.This goitre of egotism is so frequent amongnotable persons, that we must infer some strongnecessity in nature which it subserves; suchas we see in the sexual attraction. The pres-et at ion of the species was a point of suchnecessity, that Nature has secured it at allhazards by immensely overloading the passion,at the risk of perpetual crime mid disorder.S egotism has its root in the cardinal neces-sity by which each individual persists to bewhat he is.

This individuality is not only not inconsist-ent with culture, but is the basis of it. Everyvaluabb nature is there in its own right, and


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CULTURE. 11the student we speak to must have a mother-wit invincible by his culture, which uses allbooks, arts, facilities, and elegances of inter-course, but is never subdued and lost in them.He only is a well-made man who has a gooddetermination. And the end of culture is notto destroy this, (iod forbid but to train awayall impediment and mixture, and leave nothingbut pure power. Our student must have astyle and determination, and be a master inhis own specialty. But, having this, he mustput it behind him. He must have a catho-licity, a power to see with a free and disengagedlook every object. Yet is this private interestand self so overcharged, that, if a man seeksa companion who can look at objects for theirown sake, and without affection or sell'-refer-ence, he will find the fewest who will givehim that satisfaction; whilst most men areafflicted with a coldness, an incuriosity, assoon as any object does u..t connect with theirself-love. Though llic\ talk of the object be-fore them, they arc thinking of themselves, andtheir vanity is laying little traps for your ad-miration.

But after a man has discovered that thereare limits to the interest which his private


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12 CULTURE.history has for mankind, he still converseswith his family, or a few companions, per-haps with half a dozen personalities thai arefamous in his neighborhood. In Boston, tli3question of life is the names of some eighi orten men. Eave von seen Mr. Allston, Doc-tor Channing, Mr. Adams. Mr. Webster, Mr.Greenough? Have you beard Everett, Garri-son, Father Taylor, Theodore Parker? Haveyou talked with Messieurs Turbinewheel, Sum-mitlevcl, and Lacofrup si - r Then you may aswell die. lu New York, the question is ofsome other eight, or ten, or twenty. Haveyou seen a few lawyers, merchants, and bro-kers, two or three scholars, two or threecapitalists, i vro or three editors of newspapNew York is a sucked orange. All comtion is at an end, when we have dischargedourselves of a dozen personalities, domestic orimported, which make up our American ex-istence. Nor do we expect anybody to beother than a taint copy of these heroes.

Life is very narrow. Bring any club orcompany of intelligent men together againafter ten years, and if the presence of somepenetrating and calming genius could disposethem to frankness, what a confession of in-


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CULTURE. 13sanities would come up The causes towhich we have sacrificed, Tariff or Democracy,Whigism or Abolition, Temperance or Social-ism, would show like roots of bitterness anddragons of wrath: and our talents arc asmischievous as if each had been seized uponby some bird of prey, which had whisked himaway from fortune, from truth, from the dearsociety of the poets, some zeal, some bias, andonly when he was 'now gray and nerveless,was it relaxing its claws, and he awaking tosober perceptions.

Culture is the suggestion from certain bestthoughts, that a man lias a range of affinities,through which he can modulate the violenceof any master-tones that have a droning pre-ponderance in his scale, and succor him againsthimself. Culture redresses his balance, putshim among his equals and superiors, revivesthe delicious sens.' of sympathy, and warnshim of the dangers of solitude and repulsion.

T is not a compliment, but a disparagementto consull a man only on horses, or on steam,or on theatres, or on eating, or on books, and,whenever he appears, considerately to turnthe conversation to the bantling he is knownto fondle. In the Norse heaven of our tore-


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li CULTURE.fathers, Tlior's house had five hundred andforty floors; and man's house has five linn-fired and forty Hours. Eis excellence is fa-cility of adaptation and of transition throughmany related points, to wide contrasts andextremes. Culture kills his exaggeration, li isconceit of his village or his city. We mustleave our pets at home, when we go into thestreet, and meet men on broad grounds ofgood meaning and good sense. No perform-ance is worth loss of geniality. 'T is a cruelprice we pay for certain fancy goods calledfine arts and philosophy. In the Norse legend,Allfadir did not gel a drink of Mimir's spring(the fountain of wisdom), until he left hiseye in pledge. And here is a pedant thatcannol unfold his wrinkles, nor conceal hiswrath at interruption by the best, if their con-versation do not tit his impertinency, hereis he to afflict us with his personalities. 'Tisincident to scholars, that each of them fan-cies 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 eves which he left inpledge at Mirmir's spring. If von arc thevictim of your doing, who cares what you do?


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CULTURE. 15We can spare your opera, your gazetteer, yourchemic analysis, your history, your syllogisms.Your man of genius pays dear for his distinc-tion. Tlis head runs up into a spire, and in-stead of a healthy man, merry and wise, he issome mad dominie. Nature is reekless of theindividual. When she has points to carry, shecarries them. To wade in marshes and sea-margins is the destiny of certain birds, andthey are so accurately made for this, that theyare imprisoned in those places. Each animalout of its habitat would starve. To the phy-sician, eacli man, each woman, is an amplifica-tion of one organ. A soldier, a Locksmith, abank-clerk, and a dancer could not exchangefunctions. And thus we are victims of adap-tation.The antidotes againsl this organic egotism

are, the range and v;iriet\ of attractions, aspained by acquaintance with the world, withmen of merit, with classes of society, withtravel, with eminent pereons, and with thehigh resources of philosophy, art, ami religion:books, travel, society, solitude.The hardiest sceptic who has seen a horse

broken, a pointer trained, or who has visiteda menagerie, or the exhibition of the Indus-


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16 CULTURE..trious Fleas, will not deny tlie validity of edu-cation. A boy, says Plato, is the mostvicious of all wild beasts ; and, in the samespirit, the old English poel Gascoigne says, A boy is better unborn than untaught.The city breeds One kind of speech and man-ners; the back-country a different style; thesea, another; the army, a fourth. We knowthai an army which can be confided in maybe formed by discipline; that, by systematicdiscipline, all men may be made heroes: Mar-shal Lannes said to a French officer, Know,Colonel, thai none bul a poltroon will boastthai he never was afraid. A great part ofcourage is the couraige of having done thething before. And, in all human action, thosefaculties will be strong which arc used. Rob-ert Owen said, Give me a tiger, and I willeducate him. lis inhuman to want faith inthe power of education, since to meliorate isthe law of nature; and men are valued pre-cisely as they exert onward or melioratingforce. On the other hand, poltroonery is theacknowledging an'inferiority to be incurable.

Incapacity of melioration is the only mortaldistemper. There are people who can neverunderstand a trope, or any second or expanded


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CULTURE. 17sense given to your words, or any humor ; butremain literalists, after bearing the music, andpoetry, and rhetoric, and wit, of seventy 01eighty years. They are past the help of sur-geon or clergy. Bui even these can nndi r-stand pitchforks and the cry of fire and Ihave noticed in .some of this class a markeddislike of earthquakes.

Let ns make our education brave and pre-ventive. Politics is an after-work, a poorpatching. We are always a little late. Theevil is done, the law is passed, and we beginthe up-hil] agitation for repeal of that of whichweoughl to have prevented the enacting. Weshall one day learn to supersede politics byeducation. What we call our root-and-branchreforms of shivery, war, gambling, intemper-ance, is only medicating the symptoms. Wemust begin higher up, namely, in Education.Our arts and tools give to him who can

handle them much the same advantage over thenovice, as if you extended his life, ten. fifty,or a hundred years. Ami 1 think it the partof good sense to provide every line soul withsuch culture, that it shall not, at thirty or fortyyears, have to say, This which 1 might do ismade hopeless through my want of weapons.


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L8 CULTURE.But it is conceded that much of our training

fails of effect ; I liat all success is hazardous andrare; that a large pari of our cost and painsis thrown away. Nature lakes the matter intober own hands, and. though we must not omitany jot of our system, we can seldom be surethat it has availed much, or, that as muchgoodwould not have accrued from a different sys-tem.

Books, as containing the finest records ofJiuman wit, must always enter into our notionof Culture. The besl heads that e\er exist-ed. Pericles, Plato, Julius Caesar, Shakspeare,Goethe, Milton, were well-read, universallyeducated men, and quite too wise to under-value' letters. Their i. pinion has weight, be-cause they had means of knowing the oppositeopinion. We look that a great man shouldhe a good reader, or, in proportion to thespontaneous power should he the assimilatingpower, Good criticism is very rare, ami al-ways precious. 1 am always bappy to meetpersons who perceive the transcendent supe-riority of Shakspeare over all other writers.I like people who like Plato. Because thislove does not consist with self-conceit.But books are good only as far as a boy is


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CULTURE. 10ready for them. He sometimes gets readyvery slowly. You send your child to theschoolmaster, but 't is the school-boys whoeducate him. You send him to the Latinclass, but much of his tuition comes, on hisway to school, from the shop-windows. Youlike the strict rules and the long terms; andhe finds his best leading in a by-way of hisown, and refuses any companions but of hisel sing, lb' hates the grammar and ( r


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20 CULTURE.from the game too long played, lie is vacantand forlorn, and despises himself. Thence-forward it takes place with other things, andhas its due weighl in his experience. Theseminor skills and accomplishments, for example,dancing, are tickets of admission to the dress-circle of mankind, and the being master ofthem enables the youth to judge intelligentlyof much, on which, otherwise, he would givea pedantic squint. Landor said, I have suf-fered more from my bad dancing, than fromall the misfortunes and miseries of my life puttogether. Provided always the boy is teach-able (for we are not proposing to make astatue out of punk), foot-ball, cricket, archery,swimming, skating, climbing, fencing, riding,arc lessons in the art of power, which it is hismain business to learn ; -riding, specially, ofwhich Lord Herbert ofCherbury said. A goodrider on a good horse is as much above him-self anil others as the world can make him.Besides, the gun, fishing-rod, boat, and horseconstitute, among all who use them, secretfreemasonries. They are as if they belongedto one club.

There is also a negative value in these arts.Their chief use to the youth is, not amuse-


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CULTURE. 21mentj but to be known for what they are, andnot to remain to him occasions of heartburn.We are full of superstitions. Each class fixesits eyes on the advantages it has not : the re-fined, on rude strength; the democrat, onbirth and breeding. One of the benefits of acollege education is, to show the boy its littleavail. I knew a leading man in a leading city,who, having set his heart on an education atthe university, and missed it, could never quitefeel himself the equal of his own brothers whohad gone thither. His easy superiority tomultitudes of professional men could neverquite countervail to him this imaginary defect.Balls, riding, wine-parties, and billiards passto a poor boy for something line and roman-'tic, which they are not ; and a free admissionto them on an equal footing, if it were possi-ble, only once or twice, would be worth tentimes its cost, by undeceiving him.

I am not much an advocate for travelling,and T observe that men run away to othercountries, because they are not good in theirown, and run back to their own, because theypass for nothing in the new places. For themust part, only the light characters travel.Who are you that have no task to keep you


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22 CULTURE.at home ? I have been quoted as saying cap-tious things about travel; but I mean to dojustice. I think, there is a restlessness inour people, which argues want of character.All educated Americans, first or last, go toEurope; perhaps, because it is their mentalhome, as the invalid habits of this countrymighl suggest. An eminent teacher of girlssaid, The idea of a girl's education is, what-ever qualifies them for going to Europe.Can ue never extract this tape-worm of Eu-rope from the brain of our countrymen? Onesees very well whal their fate must be. IIthat docs not lill a place at home, cannotabroad. He only goes there to hide his in-significance in a larger crowd. You do notthink you will find anything there which youhave not seen at homer The stuff of allcountries is just the same. Do you suppose,there is any country where they do not scaldmilkpans, and swaddle the infants, and burnthe brushwood, and broil the fish? What istrue anywhere is true everywhere. And lethim go where he will, he can only find somuch beauty or worth as he carries.Of course, for some men, travel may be

useful. Naturalists, discoverers, and sailors


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CULTURE. 23arc born. Some men are made for couriers,exchangers, envoys, missionaries, bearers ofdespatches, as others are for farmers andworkingmen. And if the man is of a lightand social turn, and Nature has aimed tomake a Legged and winged creature, framedfor locomotion, we must follow her hint, andfurnish him with that breeding which givescurrency, as sedulously as with that whichgives worth. But, let us not be pedantic,but allow to travel its full effect. The hoygrown up ou the farm, which he has neverleft, is said in the country to have had nochance, and hoys and nun of that conditionlook upon work on a railroad, or drudgeryin a city, as opportunity. Poor country boyaof Vermont and Connecticut formerly owedwhat knowledge they had to their peddlingtrips to the Southern Slates. California andthe Pacific Coast is now the university of tinsclass, as Virginia was in old times. To havesome chance is their word. And the phraseto know the world, or to travel, is synony-mous with all men's ideas of advantage andsuperiority. No doubt, to a man of sense,travel offers advantages. As many languagesas he has, as many friends, as many arts and


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2i CULTURE.trades, so many limes is he a man. A foreigncountry is a point of comparison, wherefromto judge bis own. One use of travel is, torecommend the honks and works of home;(we go to Europe to be Americanized;) andanother, to find men. For, as Nature hasput fruits apart in latitudes, a new fruit inevery degree, so knowledge and fine moralquality she lodges in distant men. And thus,of the six or seven teachers whom each manwant'- among his contemporaries, it often hap-pens that one or two of them live on the(it her side of the world.Moreover, there is in every constitution a(vrtain solstice, when the stars stand still inour inward firmament, and when there is re-quired some foreign fore,', some diversion oralterative to prevent stagnation. And, asa medical remedy, travel seems one of thebest. Just as a man witnessing the admira-ble effect of ether to lull pain, and meditatingon the contingencies of wounds, cancers, lock-jaws, rejoices in Dr. Jackson's benign discov-ery, so a man who looks at Paris, at Naples,or at London, says, If I should be drivenfrom my own home, here, at least, my thoughtscan be consoled by the most prodigal amuse-


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CULTURE. :loincut and occupation which the human racein ages could contrive and accumulate.Akin to the benefit of foreign travel, theeesthetic value of railroads is to unite theadvantages of town and country life, neitherof which we can spare. A man should livein or near a large town, because, let his owngenius be what it may, it will repel quite asmuch of agreeable and valuable talent as itdraws, and, in a city, tin- total attraction ofall the citizens is sure to conquer, first or last,every repulsion, and drag tin- most improbablehermit within its walls some day in the year.In town, he can find the swimming-school,the gymnasium, the dancing-master, the shoot-ing-gallery, opera, theatre, and panorama; thechemist's shop, the museum of natural his-tory; the gallery of line arts; the nationalorators, in their tarn; foreign travellers, thelibraries, and his club. In the country, heCan find solitude and reading, manly labor,cheap living, and his old shoes; moors forgame, hills for geology, and groves for devo-tion. Aubrey writes, L have heard Thomasllobbes say, that, in the Earl of Devon'shouse, in Derbyshire, there was a good libraryand books enough for him, and his lordship


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26 CULTURE.stored the library with what books lie thoughtlit to be bought. But the want of good con-versation was a very greal inconvenience, and,though he conceived lie could order his think-ing as well as another, yet he found a greatdetect. In the country, in long time, forwant of good conversation, one's understand-ing aud invention contract a moss on them,Uke an old paling in an orchard.

Cities give us collision. 'T is said, Londonand New York take the nonsense out of aman. A great part of our education is sym-pathetic and social. Boys and girls who ha\ebeen brought up with well-informed and supe-rior people show in their manners an ines-timable grace. Fuller says, that William,Earl of Nassau, won a subject from the kingof Spain, every time lie put off his bat. Youcannot have one well-bred man, without awhole society of such. They keep each otherup 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 spec-tacles, 'pictures, sculpture, poetrv, and to ele-gant society, in order that you should haveone Madame de Stael. The head of a com-


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CULTURE. 27mercial house or a loading lawyer or politi-cian is brought into daily contact with troopsof men from all parts of the count ry, andthose too the driving-wheels, the businessnun of each section, and one can hardly sug-gest for an apprehensive man a more search-ing culture. Besides, we must remember thehigh social possibilities of a million of men.The best bribe which London offers to-dayto the imagination is, that, in such a \astvariety of people ami conditions, one canbelieve there is room for persons of romanticcharacter to exist, and that the poet, themystic, ami the hero may hope to confronttheir counterparts.

1 wish Cities could teach their best lesson, of quiet manners. It is the foible espe-cially of American youth, pretension. Themark of the. man of the world is absence ofpretension, lie docs not make a speech; hetakes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, isnobody, dresses plainly, promises not at all,performs much, speaks in monosyllables, lingshis fact. He calls his employment b\ uslowest name, and so takes from evil tonguestheir sharpest weapon. His conversationclings to the weather and the news, yet he


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28 CULTURE.allows himself to be surprised into thought,and the unlocking of his learning and phi-losophy. How the imagination is piqued byanecdotes of some great man passing incog-nito, as a king in gray clothes, of Napoleonaffecting a plain .suit at his glittering levee;of Burns, or Scott, or Beethoven, or Welling-ton, or Goethe, or any container of transcen-dent power, passing for uobody; of Epami-nondas, who never says anything, but willlisten eternally ; of Goethe, who preferredtrilling subjects and common expressions inintercourse with strangers, worse rather thanbetter clothes, and to appear a little morecapricious than he was. There arc advan-tages in the old hat and box-coat. I haveheard, that, throughout this country, a certainrespect is paid to good broadcloth ; but dressmakes a little restraint: men will not committhemselves. But the box-coat is like wine;it unlocks the tongue, and men say whatthey think. An old poet says,

Go far and go sparing,For you '11 find it certain,The poorer and the baser you appear,The more you '11 look through still. *

* Beaumont and Fletcher : The Tamer Tamed.


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CULTURE. 29Not much otherwise Mflnes writes, in theLay of the Humble, To me men are for what they are,

They wear no masks with me.'T is odd that our people should have, not

witter on the brain, but a little gas there.A shrewd foreigner said of the Americans,that, ''whatever they say has a little the airof a speech. Yet one of the traits down inthe books as distinguishing the Anglo-Saxonis, a trick of self-disparagement. To be sure,in old, dense countries, among a million ofgood coats, a line coat comes to be no dis-tinction, and you find humorists. In an Eng-lish party, a man with no marked mannersor features, with a face like red dough, unex-pectedly discloses wit, learning, a wide rangeof topics, and personal familiarity with goodmen in all parts of the world, until you thinkyou have fallen upon some illustrious person-age. Can it be that the American forest hasrefreshed some weeds of old Pictish barbarismjust ready to die out, the love of the scarletfeather, of beads, and tinsel ? The Italiansare fond of red clothes, peacock plumes, andembroidery ; and I remember one rainy morn-


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30 CULTURE.ing in the city of Palermo, the street was ina blaze with scarlet umbrellas. The Englishhave a plain taste. The equipages of thegrandees are plain. A gorgeous livery indi-cates new and awkward city wealth. Mr.Pitt, like Mr. Pym, thought the title of Mistergood against any king in Europe. They havepiqued themselves on governing the wholeworld in the poor, plain, dark Committee-room which the House of Commons sat in,before the fire.

Whilst we want cities as the centres wherethe best things are found, cities degrade usby magnifying trifles. The countryman findsthe town a chop-house, a barber's shop. Hehas lost the lines of grandeur of the horizon,hills and plains, and with them, sobriety andelevation. He has come among a supple,glib-tongued tribe, who live for show, servileto public opinion. Life is dragged down toa fracas of pitiful cares and disasters. Yousay the gods ought to respect a life whoseobjects are their own; but in cities they havebetrayed you to a cloud of insignificant an-noyances : Mirmidons, race feconde,

Mirmidons,


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CULTURE. 31Enfin nous conrmandonsJupiter livrc le mondeAux mirmidons, aux mirmidons. *'T is heavy oddsAgainst the gods,When they will match with myrmidons.We spawning, spawning myrmidons,Our turn to-day we take command,Jove gives the glohe into the handOf myrmidons, of myrmidons.

What is odious but noise, and people whoscream and bewail? people whose vane pointsalways cast, who live to dine, who send forthe doctor, who coddle themselves, who toasttheir feet on the register, who intrigue tosecure a padded chair, and a corner out ofthe draught. Sutler them once to begin theenumeration of their infirmities, and the sunwill go down on the unfinished tale. Letthese triflers put us out of conceit with pettycomforts. To a man at work, the frost is buta color: the rain, the wind, he forgot themwhen he came in. Let us learn to livecoarsely, dress plainly, and lie hard. Theleast habit of dominion over the palate has

* Berany;er.


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32- CULTURE.certain good effects not easily estimated.Neither will we be driven into a quiddlingabstemiousness. 'T is a superstition to in-sist on a special diet. All is made at lastof the same chemical atoms.A man in pursuit of greatness feels no littlewants. How can you mind diet, bed, dress,or salutes or compliments, or the figure youmake in company, or wealth, or even thebringing things to pass, when you think howpaltry are the machinery and the workers ?Wordsworth was praised to me, in West-moreland, for having afforded to his countryneighbors an example of a modest householdwhere comfort and culture were secured, with-out display. And a tender boy who wearshis rusty cap and outgrown coat, that hemay secure the coveted place in college, andthe right in the library, is educated to somepurpose. There is' a great deal of self-denialand manliness in poor and middle-class houses,in town and country, that has not got intoliterature, and never will, but that keeps theearth sweet ; that saves on superfluities, andspends on essentials ; that goes rusty, andeducates the boy; that sells the horse, butbuilds the school ; works early and late, takes


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CULTURE. 33two looms in the factory, three looms, sixlooms, but pays off the mortgage on thepaternal farm, and then goes back cheerfullyto work again.We can ill spare the commanding socialbenefits of cities ; they must be used ; yetcautiously, and haughtily, and will yieldtheir best values to him who best can dowithout them. Keep the town for occasions,but the habits should be formed to retirement.Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is togenius the stern friend, the cold, obscure shel-ter where moult the wings which will bearit farther than suns and stars. He whoshould inspire and lead his race must bedefended from travelling with the souls ofother ' men, from living, breathing, reading,and writing in the daily, time-worn yoke oftheir opinions. In the morning, soli-tude ; said Pythagoras ; that Nature mayspeak to the imagination, as . she does neverin company, and that her favorite may makeacquaintance with those divine strengths whichdisclose themselves to serious and abstractedthought. 'T is very certain that Plato, Plo-tinus, Archimedes, Hermes, Newton, Milton,Wordsworth, did not live in a crowd, but


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34 CULTURE.descended into it from time to time as bone-factors; and the wise instructor will pressthis point of securing to the young soul inthe disposition of time and the arrangementsof living, periods and habits of solitude. Thehigh advantage of university-life is often themere mechanical one, I may call it, of a sep-arate chamber and fire, which parents willallow the boy without hesitation at Cambridge,but do not think needful at home. We saysolitude, to mark the character of the toneof thought ; but if it can be shared betweentwo or more than two, it is happier, and notless noble. We four, wrote Neander tohis sacred friends, will enjoy at Halle theinward blessedness of a civitas Dei, whosefoundations are forever friendship. The moreI know you, the more I dissatisfy and mustdissatisfy all my wonted companions. Theirvery presence stupefies me. The commonunderstanding withdraws itself from the onecentre of all existence.

Solitude takes off the pressure of presentimportunities, that more catholic and humanerelations may appear. The saint and poetseek privacy to ends the most public anduniversal; and it is the secret of culture, to


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CULTURE. 35interest the man more in his public than inhis private quality. Here is a new poem,which elicits a good many comments in thejournals and in conversation. From theseit is easy, at last, to eliminate the verdictwhich readers passed upon it ; and that is,in the main, unfavorable. The poet, as acraftsman, is only interested in the praiseaccorded to him, and not in the censure,though it be just. And the poor little poethearkens only to that, and rejects the censure,as proving incapacity in the critic. But thepoet cultivated becomes a stockholder in bothcompanies, say Mr. Curfew, in the Cur-few stock, and in the humanity stock; and,in the last, exults as much in the demonstra-tion of the unsoundness of Curfew, as his in-terest in the former gives him pleasure in thecurrency of Curfew. For, the depreciationof his Curfew stock only shows the immensevalues of the humanity stock. As soon ashe sides with his critic against himself, withjoy, he is a cultivated man.We must have an intellectual quality in allproperty 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


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36 CULTURE.my thinking' and speaking want body or basis.But to give these accessories any value, Imust know them as contingenl and raihcrshowy possessions, which pass for more tothe people than to me. We see this abstrac-tion in scholars, as a matter of course; butwhat a charm it adds when observed in prac-tical men Bonaparte, like Caesar, was intel-lectual, and could look at every objeel foritself, without affection. Though an egotista I'outrance, he could criticise a play, a build-ing, a character, on universal grounds, andgive a just opinion. A man known to usonly as a eel ibritj in politics or in trade,gains largely in our esteem it we discoverth.it he has some intellectual taste or skillas when we learn of Lord Fairfax, the LongParliament's general, his passion for anti-quarian studies; or of the French regicideCarnot, his sublime genius in mathematics;or of a living banker, his success in poetry;or of a partisan journalist, his devotion toornithology. So. if in travelling in the drearywildernesses of Arkansas or Texas, we shouldobserve on the next scat a man reading Hor-ace, i- Martial, or Calderon, we should wishto hug him. In callings thai require roughest


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CULTURE. 37energy, soldiers, sea-captains, and civil engi-neers sometimes betray a fine insight, if onlythrough a certain gentleness when nil* duly;a good-natured admission that There are illu-sions, and who shall say thai he is not theirsport r We only vary the phrase, not thedoctrine, when we say that culture opensthe sense of beauty. A man is a beggar whoonly lives to the useful, and, however he mayserve as a piu or rivet in the social machine,cannot be said to have arrived at self-posion. I suffer, every day. from the want ofperception of beauty in people. They do notknow the charm with which all moments andobjects can be embellished, the charm of man-ner-, of self-command, of benevolence. Re-pose and cheerfulness are the badge of thegentleman. repose in energy. The Greekbattle-pieces are calm; the heroes, in what-ever violent actions engaged, retain a sereneaspeel : as we say of Niagara, that it fallswithout speed. A cheerful, intelligent faceis the r\\(\ of culture, and success enough.For it indicates the purpose of nature andwisdom attained.When our higher faculties are in activity.we are domesticated, and awkwardness and


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38 CULTURE.discomfort give place to natural and agreeablemovements. It is noticed, that the consid-eration of the great periods and spaces ofastr )iny induces a dignity of mind, and anindifference to death. The influence of linescenery, the presence of mountains, appeasesour irritations and elevates our friendships.Even a high dome, and the expansive interiorof a cathedral, have a sensible effect on man-ners. I have heard that still' people losesomething of their awkwardness under highceilings and in spacious halls. I think, sculp-ture and painting have an effeel to teach usmanners, and abolish hurry.

But, over all, culture must reinforce fromhigher influx the empirical skills of eloquence,or of politics, or of trade, and the useful arts.There is a certain loftiness of thought andpower to marshal and adjust particulars, whichcan only come from an insight of their wholeConnection. The orator who has once seenthings in their divine order will never quitelose sight of this, and will come to affairs asfrom a higher ground, and. though he will saynothing of philosophy, he will have a certainmastery in dealing with them, and an incapa-hlencss of being dazzled or frighted, which


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CULTURE. 39wiD distinguish his handling from that of at-torneys and factors. A man who stands on agood footing -with the heads of parties atWashington reads the rumors of the news-papers, and the guesses of provincial politi-cians, with a key to the right and wrong incadi statement, and sees well enough whereall this will end. Archimedes will look throughyour Connecticut machine, at a glance, andjudge of its fitness. And much more, a wiseman who knows not only what Plato, but whatSaint John can show him, can easily raise theaffair he deals with to a certain majesty.Plato says, Pericles owed this elevation to thelessons of Anaxagoras. Burke descended froma higher sphere when he would influencehuman affairs. Franklin, Adams, Jefferson,Washington, stood on a line humanity, beforewhich the brawls of modern senates are butpothouse polities.

lint there are higher secrets of culture,which an; not for the apprentices, hut forproficients. These arc lessons nl\ for thebrave. We must know our friends underugly masks. The calamities arc our friends.Pen Jonson specifics in his address to theMuse :


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40 CULTURE.Get him the time's long grudge, the court's ill-will,And, reconciled, keep him suspected still,Make him lose all his friends, and, what is worse,Almost all ways to any better courseWith me thou leav'st a better Muse than thee,And which thou brought'st me, blessed Poverty.We wish to learn philosophy by rote, and playat heroism. But the wiser God says, Take theshame, the poverty, and the penal solitude,that belong to truth-speaking. Try the roughwater as well as the smooth. Rough watercan teach lessons worth knowing. When thestate is unquiet, personal qualities are morethan ever decisive. Fear not a revolution whichwill constrain you to live five years in one.Don't be so tender at making an enemy nowand then. Be willing to go to Coventry some-times, and let the populace bestow on you theircoldest contempts. The finished man of theworld must eat of every apple once. He musthold his hatreds also at arm's-length, and notremember spite. He has neither friends nor ene-mies, but values men only as channels of power.He who aims high, must dread an easyhome and popular manners. Heaven some-times hedges a rare character about with un-gainliness and odium, as the burr that protects


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CULTURE. 41the fruit. If there is any great and good thingin store for you, it will not come at the firstor the second call, nor in the shape of fashion,ease, and city drawing-rooms. Popularity isfor dolls. Steep and craggy, said Porphyry, is the path of the gods. Open your Mar-cus 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 forthe tide, contending with winds and waves,dismantled and unrigged, to her companionborne into harbor with colors flying and gunsfiring. There is none of the social goods thatmay not be purchased too dear, and mereamiableness must not take rank with highaims' and self-subsistency.

Bettine replies to Goethe's mother, whochides her disregard of dress, If I cannotdo as I have a mind, in our poor Frankfort, Ishall not carry things far. And the youthmust rate at its true mark the inconceivablelevity of local opinion. The longer we live,the more we must endure the elementary exist-ence of men and women; and every braveheart must treat society as a child, and neverallow it to dictate.


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42 CULTURE. All that class of the severe and restrictive

virtues, said Burke, are almost too costlyfor 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 tempersweet, his frolic spirits ? The high virtues arenot debonair, but have their redress in beingillustrious at last. What forests of laurel webring, and the tears of mankind, to those whostood firm against the opinion of their contem-poraries The measure of a master is his suc-cess in bringing all men round to his opiniontwenty years later.Let me say here, that culture cannot begintoo early. In talking with scholars, I observethat they lost on ruder companions those yearsof boyhood which alone could give imaginativeliterature a religious and infinite quality intheir esteem. 1 find, too, that the chance forappreciation is much increased by being theson of an appreciator, and that these boys whonow grow up are caught not only years toolate, but two or three births too late, to makethe best scholars of. And I think it a pre-sentable motive to a scholar, that, as, in anold community, a well-born proprietor is usu-


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CULTURE. 43ally found, after the first heats of youth, to bea careful husband, and to feel a habitual desirethat the estate shall suffer no harm by his ad-ministration, but shall be delivered down tothe next heir in as good condition as he re-ceived it ; so, a considerate man will reckonhimself a subject of that secular melioration bywhich mankind is mollified, cured, and refined,and will shun every expenditure of his forceson pleasure or gain, which will jeopardize thissocial and secular accumulation.The fossil strata show us that nature began

with rudimental forms, and rose to the morecomplex, as fast as the earth was fit for theirdwelling-place ; and that the lower perish, asthe higher appear. Very few of our race canbe said to be yet finished men. We still carrysticking to us some remains of the precedinginferior quadruped organization. We call thesemillions men; but they are not yet men.Half engaged in the soil, pawing to get free,man needs all the music that can be broughtto disengage him. If Love, red Love, withtears and joy ; if Want with his scourge ; ifWar with his cannonade; if Christianity withits charity; if Trade with its money; if Artwith its portfolios ; if Science with her tele-


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44 CULTURE.graphs through the dorps of space and timecan set his dull nerves throbbing, and byloud taps on the tough chrysalis, can breakits walls, and lei the new creature emergeerect and free, -make way, and sing pseanThe age of the quadruped is to go out, theage of the brain and of the heart is to comein. The time will come when the evil formswe have known can no more be organized.Man's culture can spare nothing, wants all thematerial, lie is to eoiivert all impediment s intoinstruments, all enemies into power. The for-midable mischief will only make the more use-ful slave. And if one shall read the future ofthe race hinted in the organic effort of Natureto mount and meliorate, and the correspondingimpulse to the Better in the human being, weshall dare affirm that there is nothing he willnot overcome and convert, until at last cultureshall absorb the chaos and gehenna. Tie willconvert the Furies into Muses, and the hellsinto benefit.


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BEHAVIORGrace, Beauty, and CapriceBuild this golden portal;Graceful women, chosen men,Dazzle every mortal :Their sweet and lofty countenanceHis enchauting foodHe need nol go to them, their formsBeset his Bolitude.Hi' looketh seldom in their face,His eyes explore the ground,The green grass is a looking-glassWhereon their traits are found.Little he Bays to them,So dances Ins heart in his breast,Their tranquil nuen liereaveth himOf \\ n, of words, of rest.Too weak to win, too loud to shunThe tyrants of his doOIU,The much-deceived EndymionSlips behind a tomb.


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BEHAVIOR.HE soul which animates Nature isnot less significantly published in thefigure, movement, and gesture of

animated bodies, than in its last vehicle ofarticulate speech. This silent and subtilelanguage is .Manners; not what, but koto.Lite expresses. A statue has no tongue, andneeds none. Good tableaux do not need dev-lamation. Nature tells every secret once.Yes, but in man she tells it all the time, by form,attitude, gesture, mien, face, and parts of theface, and by the whole action of the machine.The visible carriage or action of the individual,as resulting from his organization and his willcombined, we call manners. What are theybut thought entering the hands and feet, con-


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48 BEHAVIOR.trolling the movements of the body, the speechand behavior ?There is always a best way of doing every-thing, if it be to boil an egg. Manners arethe happy ways of doing things; each oncea stroke of genius or of love, now repeatedand hardened into usage. They form at last arich varnish, with which the routine of life iswashed, and its details adorned. If they aresuperficial, so are the dew-drops which givesuch a depth to the morning meadows. Man-ners are very communicable : men catch themfrom each other. Consuelo, in the romance,boasts of the lessons she had given the noblesin manners, on the stage; and, in real life,Talma taught Napoleon the arts of behavior.Genius invents line manners, which the baronand the baroness copy very fast, and, by theadvantage of a palace, better the instruction.They stereotype the lesson they have learnedinto a mode.

The power of manners is incessant, anelement as unconcealable as lire. The nobilitycannot in any country be disguised, and nomore in a republic or a democracy, than in akingdom. No man can resist their influence.There are certain manners which are learned


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BEHAVIOR. 49in good society, of that force, that, if a personhave them, he or she must be considered, andis everywhere welcome, though without beauty,or wealth, or genius. Give a boy address andaccomplishments, and you give him the mas-tery of palaces and fortunes where he goes.He has not the trouble of earning or owningtliem; they solicit him to enter and possess.We send girls of a timid, retreating dispositionto the boarding-school, to the riding-school, tothe ballroom, or wheresoever they can comeinto acquaintance and nearness of leading per-sons of their own sex ; where they mighl learnaddress, and see it near at hand. The powerof a woman of fashion to lead, and also to dauntand repel, derives from their belief that sheknows resources and behaviors nol known tothem ; but when these have mastered her se-cret, they learn to confront her, and recovertheir self-possession.

Every day bears witness to their gentle rule.People who would obtrude, now do not ob-trude. The mediocre circle learns to demandthat which belongs to a high state of nature orof culture. Your manners are always underexamination, and by committees little sus-pected, a police in citizens' clothes, but


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50 BEHAVIOR.are awarding or denying you very high prizeswhen you least think of it.We talk much of utilities, but 't is ourmanners thai associate us. In hours of busi-ness, we go to him who knows, or has, or doesthis or that which we want, and we do not letour taste or feeling stand in the way. Butthis activity over, we return to the indolentstate, and wish for those we can be at casewith; those who will go where Ave go, whosemanners do not offend us, whose social tonechimes with ours. When wc reflect on theirpersuasive and cheering force; how they rec-ommend, prepare, and draw people together;how, in all clubs, manners make the members;how manners make the fortune of the ambi-tious youth; that, for the most part, his man-ners marry him, and, for the most part, hemarries manners; when wc think what keysthey are, and to what secrets; what high les-sons and inspiring tokens of character theyconvey; and what divination is required in us,for the reading of this line telegraph, we seewhat range the subject has, and what relationsto convenience, power, and beauty.

Their first service is very low, when theyare the minor morals; but 't is the beginning


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BEHAVIOR. 51of civility, to make us, I mean, endurableto each other. We prize them for their rough-plastic, abstergent force; to get people out ofthe quadruped state; to get them washed,clothed, and set up on end; to slough theiranimal husks and habits; compel them to beclean ; overawe their spite and meanness, teachthem to stifle the base, and choose the gener-ous expression, and make them know howmuch happier the generous behaviors are.

Bad behavior the laws cannot reach. Societyis infested with rude, cynical, restless, andfrivolous persons who prey upon the rest, andwhom, a public opinion concentrated into goodmanners, forms aceeptcd by the sense of all,can reach : the contradictors and railers atpublic and private tables, who are like terriers,who conceive it the duty of a dog of honor togrowl at any passer-by, and do the honors ofthe house by harking him out of sight: Ihave seen men who neigh like a horse whenyon contradict them, or say something whichthey do not understand : then the overbold,who make their own invitation to your hearth ;the persevering talker, who gives yon his societyin large, saturating doses; tin 1 pitiers of them-selves, a perilous class ; the frivolous As-


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52 BEHAVIOR.modeus, who relics on you to find him in ropesof sand to twist; the monotones; in short,every stripe of absurdity ; these are socialinflictions which the magistrate cannot cure ordefend yon from, and which must be intrustedto the restraining force of custom, and proverbs,and familiar rules of behavior impressed onyoung people in their school-days.

In the hotels mi t lie banks of the Mississippi,they print, or used to print, among the rules ofthe house, thai no gentleman can be per-mitted to enine to the public table without hiscoat ; and in the same country, in the pewsof the churches, little placards plead with theworshipper againsl the fury of expectoration.Charles Dickens self-sacrificingly undertook thereformation of our American manners in un-speakable particulars. I think the lesson wasnot quite lost; thai it held bad manners up,so that the churls could sec the deformity.Unhappily, the book had its own deformities.It oughl not io need to print in a reading-rooma caution to strangers not to speak loud; norto persons who look over line engravings, thatthey should be handled like cobwebs andbutterflies' wings ; nor to persons who look atmarble statues, that they shall not smite them


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BEHAVIOR. 53with canes. But, even in the perfect civiliza-tion of Boston, such cautions are not quiteneedless in the Athenaeum and City Library.

Manners arc fact it ions, and grow oul of cir-cumstance as well as oul of character. If youlook at the pictures of patricians and of peas-ants, of different periods and countries, yonwill see how well they mat eh the same classesin our towns. The modern aristocrat not onlyis well drawn in Titian's Venetian doges, and inRoman coins and statues, but also in the pic-tures which Commodore Perry brought homeof dignitaries in Japan. Broad lands and greatinterests not only arrive to such heads as canmanage them, but form manners of power. Akeen eye, too, will see nice gradations of rank.or see in the manners the degree of homagethe party is wont to receive. A prince whois accustomed every day to be courted anddeferred to by the highest grandees, acquiresa corresponding expectation, and a becomingmode of receiving and replying to this homage.

There are always exceptional people andmodes. English grandees affect to be farmers.Claverhouse is a fop. and. under the finish oidress, and levity of behavior, hides the terrorof his war. But Nature and Destiny are lion-


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54 BEHAVIOR.est, and never fail to leave their mark, to hangout a sign for each and for every quality. It ismuch to conquer one's face, and perhaps theambitious youth thinks he lias got the wholesecret when he has learned that disengagedmanners are commanding. Don't be deceivedby a facile exterior. Tender men sometimeshave strong wills. We had, in Massachu-setts, an old statesman, who had sat all hislife in courts and in chairs of state, withoutovercoming an extreme irritability of face,voice, and bearing : when he spoke, his voicewould not serve him; it cracked, it broke, itwheezed, it piped, little cared he; he knewthat it had got to pipe, or wheeze, or screechhis argument and his indignation. When hesat down, after speaking, he seemed in a sortof fit, and held on to his chair with both hands:but underneath all this irritability was a puis-sant will, linn, and advancing, and a memoryin which lav in order and method like geologicstrata every fact of his history, and under thecontrol of his will.

Manners are partly factitious, but, mainly,there must be capacity for culture in the blood.Else all culture is vain. The obstinate preju-dice in favor of blood, which lies at the base of


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BEHAVIOR. 55the feudal and monarchical fabrics of the OldWorld, has some reason in common experience.Every man mathematician, artist, soldier, ormerchant looks with confidence for sometraits and talents in his own child, which hewould not dare to presume in the child of astranger. The Orientalists are very orthodoxon this point. Take a thorn-bush, said theemir Abdel-Kader, and sprinkle it for a wholeyear with water; it will yield nothing butthorns. Take a date-tree, leave it withoutculture, and it will always produce dates.Nobility is the date-tree, and the Arab popu-lace is a bush of thorns.A main fact iu the history of manners is thewonderful expressiveness of the human body.If it were made of glass, or of air, and thethoughts were written on steel tablets within,it could not publish more truly its meaningthan now. Wise men read very sharply allyour private history in your look and gait andbehavior. The whole economy of nature, isbent on expression. The tell-tale body is alltongues. Men are like Geneva watches withcrystal laces which expose the whole movement.They carry the liquor of life flowing up anddown in these beautiful bottles, and announcing


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56 BEHAVIOR.to the curious how it is with them. The faceand eyes reveal what the spirit is doing, howold it is, what aims it. has. The eyes indicatethe antiquity of the soul, or through howmany forms it has already ascended. It al-mosl violates the proprieties, if we say abovethe breath here, what the confessing eyes donot hesitate to utter to every street passenger.

Man cannot li\ his eve on the sun, and sofar seems imperfect. In Siberia, a late trav-eller found men who could see the satellites ofJupiter with their unarmed eye. In some re-spects the animals excel us. The hirds havea longer sight, beside the advantage by theirwings of a higher observatory. A cow canbid her calf, by secret signal, probably of theeye, to run away, or to lie down and hide it-self. The jockeys say of certain horses, thatthey look over the whole ground. Theout-door life, and hunting, and labor, giveequal vigor to the human eye. A farmer looksout at yon as strong as the horse; his eve-beam is like the stroke of a stall'. An eye canthreaten like a loaded and levelled gun, or caninsult like hissing or kicking; or, in its alteredmood, by beams of kindness, it can make theheart dance with joy.


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BEHAVIOR. 57The eye obeys exactly the action of the mind.

When a thought strikes us, the eyes fix, andremain gazing at a distance; in enumeratingthe names of persons or of countries, as France,Germany, Spain, Turkey, the eyes wink at eachnew name. There is no nicety of learningsought by the mind, which the eyes do not viein acquiring. An artist, said Michel An-gelo, must have his measuring tools, not inthe hand, but in the eye ; and there is no endto the catalogue of its performances, whetherin indolent vision (that of health and beauty)or in strained vision (that of art and labor).

Eyes are bold as lions, roving, running,leaping, here and there, far and near. Theyspeak all languages. They wait for no intro-duction ; they are no Englishmen ; ask no leaveof age, or rank; they respect neither povertynor riches, neither learning nor power, norvirtue, nor sex, but intrude, and come again,and go through and through von, in a momentof time. What inundation of life and thoughtis discharged from one soul into another,through them The glance is natural magic.The mysterious communication establishedacross a house between two entire strangers,moves all the springs of wonder. The conimu-


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58 BEHAVIOR.nication by the glance is in the greatest partnot subject to the control of the will. It is thebodily symbol of identity of nature. We lookinto the eyes to know if this other form isanother self, and the eyes Mill not lie, but makea faithful confession what inhabitant is there.The revelations are sometimes terrific. Theconfession of a low, usurping devil is theremade, and the observer shall seem to feel thestirring of owls, and bats, and horned hoofs,where he looked for innocence and simplicity.'T is remarkable, too, that the spirit, that ap-pears at the windows of the house does atonce invest himself in a new form of his own,to the mind of the beholder.The eyes of men converse as much as their

tongues, with the advantage, that the oculardialect needs no dictionary, but is understoodall the world over. When the eyes say onething, and the tongue another, a practised manrelies on the language of the first, If the manis off his centre, the eves show it. You canread in the eyes of your companion, whetheryour argument hits him, though his tonguewill not confess it. There is a look by whicha man shows he is going to say a good thing,and a look when he has said it. Vain and


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BEHAVIOR. 59forgotten are all the fine offers and offices ofhospitality, if there is no holiday in the eye.How many furtive inclinations avowed by iheeye, though dissembled by the lips Onecomes away from a company, in which, it mayeasily happen, he has said nothing, and no im-portant remark has been addressed to him, andyet, if in sympathy with the society, he shallnot have a sense of this fact, such a stream oflife has been flowing into him, and out fromhim, through the eyes. There are eyes, to besure, that give no more admission into the manthan blueberries. Others are liquid and deep, wells that a man might fall into ; others areaggressive and devouring, seem to call out thepolice, take all too much notice, and requirecrowded Broadways, and the security of mil-lions, to protect individuals against them.The military eye I meet, now darkly sparklingunder clerical, now under rustic brows. 'T isthe city of Lacedoemon ; 't is a stack of bayo-nets. There are asking eyes, asserting eves,prowling eyes; and eyes full of fate, someof good and some of sinister omen. The al-leged power to charm down insanity, or ferocityin beasts, is a power behind the eye. It mustbe a victory achieved in the will, before it can


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60 BEHAVIOR.be signified in the eye. 'T is very certain thateach man carries in his eye the exact indicationof his rank in the immense scale of men, andwe are always learning to read it. A completeman should need no auxiliaries to his personalpresence. Whoever looked on him would con-sent to his will, being certified that his aimswere generous ami universal. The reason whymen do not obey us, is because they see themud at the bottom of our eye.

If the organ of sight is such a vehicle ofpower, the oilier features have their own. Aman finds room in the lew square inches of theface for the traits of all his ancestors; for theexpression of all his history, ami his wants. Thesculptor, and Winckelmann, and Lavater willtell you how significant a feature is the nose;how its forms express strength or weaknessof will, and good or bad temper. The nose ofJulius Caesar, of Dante, and of Pitt suggest the terrors of the beak. What refinement,and what limitations, the teeth betray Be-ware von don't laugh/ 5 said the wise mother, for then you show all your faults.

Balzae left in manuscript a chapter, whichhe called Theorie de l


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BEHAVIOR. 61and the attitude or walk are identical. Butas it has not been given to man, the power tostand guard, at once, over these four differenlsimultaneous expressions of his thought, watchthai one which speaks out the truth, and youwill know the whole man.

Palaces interest us mainly in the exhibitionof manners, which, in the idle and expensivesociety dwelling in them, arc raised to a highart. The maxim of courts is, that manner ispower. A calm and resolute bearing, a pol-ished speech, an embellishment of trifles, andthe art of hiding all uncomfortable feeling, areessential to the courtier ; ami Saim Simon, andCardinal de Retz, and Roederer, and an ency-clopaedia of Memoires, will instrucl you, if youwish, in those potent secrets. Thus, it is apoint of pride with kings, to remember facesand names. It is reported of one prince, thathis head had the air of leaning downwards, inorder not to humble the crowd. There arepeople who come in ever like a child with apiece of good news. It was said of the lateLord Holland, that he always came down tobreakfast with the air of a man who had justmet with some signal good-fortune. In NotreDame, the grandee took his place on the dais,


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62 BEHAVIOR.with the look of one who is thinking of some-thing else. But we must not peep and eaves-drop at palace-doors.

Fine manners need the support of fine man-ners in others. A scholar may be a well-bredman, or he may not. The enthusiast is intro-duced to polished scholars in society, and ischilled and silenced by finding himself not intheir element. They all haw somewhat whichhe has not, and, it seems, ought to have. Butif he finds the .scholar apart from his compan-ions, it is then the enthusiast's turn, and thescholar has no defence, but must deal on histerms. Now they must tight the battle outon their private strengths. Wliat is the talentof that character so common, the success-ful man of the world, in all marts, senates,and drawing-rooms 1- Manners : manners ofpower; sense to see his advantage, and man-ners up to it. See him approach his man. Heknows that troops behave as they are handledat first; that is his cheap secret; just whathappens to every two persons who meet on anyaffair, one instantly perceives that he has thekey of the situation, that his will comprehendsthe other's will, as the cat does the mouse;and he has ouly to use courtesy, and furnish


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64 BEHAVIOR.the invalids. Here is Elise who caught coldin coming into the world, and has alwaysincreased it since. Here arc creep-mousemanners ; and thievish manners. Look atNorthcote, said Fuseli; he looks like a ratthai has seen a cat, In the shallow com-pany, easily excited, easily tired, here is thecolumnar Bernard : the Alleghanies do notexpress more repose than his behavior. Hereare the sweet following eyes of Cecile: itseemed always that she demanded the heart.Nothing can he more exeellent in kind than theCorinthian grace of Gertrude's manners, andvet Blanche, who has no manners, has bettermanners than she; for the movements ofBlanche are the sallies of a spirit which is suf-ficient for the moment, and she can afford toexpress even thoughl by instant action.

Manners have been somewhal cynically de-fined to he a contrivance of wise men to keepfools at a distance. Fashion is shrewd to de-tect those who do no belong to her train, andseldom wastes her attentions. Society is veryswift in its instincts, and. if von do not belongto it, resists and sneers at von. or quietly dropsyon. The tirst weapon enrages the party at-tacked; the second is still more effective, but


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BEHAVIOR. 65is not to be resisted, as the date of the trans-action is not easily found. People grow up andgrow old under this infliction, and never sus-pect the truth, ascribing the solitude whichnets on them very injuriously to any causebut the right one.The basis of good manners is self-reliance.

Necessity is the law of all who are not self-possessed. Those who are not self-possessed,obtrude, and pain us. Some men appear tofeel that they belong to a Pariah caste. Theyfear to offend, they bend and apologize, andwalk through life with a timid step. As wesometimes dream that we are in a well-dressedcompany without any coat, so Godfrey actsever as if he suffered from some mortifyingcircumstance. The hero should find himselfat home, wherever lie is ; should imparl com-fort by his own security and good-nature to allbeholders. The hero is suffered to be himself.A person of strong mind comes to perceive(hal for him an immunity is secured so longas he renders to society that service which isnative and proper to him, an immunity fromall the observances, yea, and duties, whichsociety so tyrannically imposes on the rank andfile of its members. Euripides, says Aspa-


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66 BEHAVIOR.sia, has not the fine manners of Sophoclesbut, she adds good-humoredly, the moversand masters of our souls have surely a right totli row out their limbs as carelessly as theyplease, on the world that belongs to them, andbefore the creatures they have animated. *

Maimers require time, as nothing is morevulgar than haste. Friendship should be sur-rounded with ceremonies and respects, andnot crushed intocorners. Friendship requiresmore time than poor busy men can usually com-mand. Here comes to me Roland, with a deli-cacy of sentiment leading and inwrapping himlike a divine cloud or holy ghost. 'T is a greatdestitution to both that this should not be en-tertained with large leisures, but contrariwiseshould be balked by importunate affairs.But through this lustrous varnish, the reality

is ever shining. T is hard to keep the whatfrom breaking through this pretty painting ofhow. The core will come to the surface. Strongwill and keen perception overpower old man-ners and create new; and the thought of thepresent moment has a greater value than all thepast. In persons of character, we do not re-mark manners, because of their iustantaneous-

* Laiidor : Pericles and Aspasia.


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BEHAVIOR. 67ness. We are surprised by the tiling done,out of all power to watch the way of it. Yetnothing is more charming than to recognizethe great style which runs through the actionsof such. People masquerade before us in theirfortunes, titles, offices, and connections, asacademic or civil presidents, or senators, orprofessors, or great lawyers, and impose on thefrivolous, and a good deal on each other, bythese fames. At least, it is a point of prudentgood manners to treat these reputations ten-derly, as if they were merited. But the sadrealist knows these fellows at a glance, andthey know him ; as when in Paris the chiefof the police enters a ballroom, so many dia-monded pretenders shrink and make themselvesas inconspicuous as they can, or give him asupplicating look as they pass. I had re-ceived, said a sibyl, 1 had received atbirth the fatal gift of penetration : andthese Cassandras are always born.

Manners impress as they indicate real power.A man who is sure of his point carries a broadand contented expression, which everybodyreads. And you cannot rightly train one toan air and manner, except by making hi in thekind of man of whom that manner is the natu-


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68 BEHAVIOR.ral expression. Nature forever put a premiumon reality. What is done for effect is seen tobe done for effect ; what is done for love isfelt to be done for love. A man inspires af-fection and honor, because he was not lying inwait for these. The things of a man for whichwe visit him were done in the dark and the cold.A little integrity is better than any career.So deep are the sources of this surface-action,that even the size of your companion seems tovary with his freedom of thought. Not only isho larger, when at ease, and his thoughts gen-erous, hut everything around him becomes va-riable with expression. No carpenter's rule,no rod and chain, will measure the dimensionsof any house or house-lot : go into the house :if the proprietor is constrained and deferring,'tis of no importance how large his house, howbeautiful his grounds, you quickly come tothe end of all : but if the man is self-possessed,happy, and at home, his house is deep-founded,indefinitely large and interesting, the roof anddome buoyant as the sky. Under the humblestroof, the commonest person in plain clothessits there massive, cheerful, yet formidable likethe Egyptain colossi.

Neither Aristotle, nor Leibnitz, nor Junius,


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BEHAVIOR. 69nor Champollion has set down the grammar-rules of this dialect, older than Sanscrit ; butthey who cannot yet nail English can read this.Men take each other's measure, when they meetfor the first time, ami every time they meet.How do they get this rapid knowledge, even be-fore they speak, of each other's power and dis-positions ? One would say, that the persuasionof their speech is not in wlmt they say, or,that men do not convince by their argument, but by their personality, by who they are,and what they said and did heretofore. .Vman already strong is listened to, and every-thing he says is applauded. Another opposeshim with sound argument, hut the argumentis scouted, until by and by it gets into themind of some weighty person; then it beginsto tell on the community.

Self-reliance is the basis of behavior, as itis the guaranty that the powers are not squan-dered in too much demonstration. In thiscountry, where school education is universal,we have a superficial culture, and a profusionof reading and writing and expression. Weparade our nobilities in poems and orations,instead of working them up into happiness.There is a whisper out of the ages to him who


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70 BEHAVIOU.can understand it, whatever is known tothyself alone has always very great value.There is some reason to believe, that, when aman does not write his poetry, it escapes byother vents through him, instead of the onevent of writing; clings to his form and man-ners, whilst poets have often nothing poeticalabout them except their verses. Jacobi said,that when a man has fully expressed histhought, he has somewhat less possession ofit. One would say, the rule is, What a manis irresistibly urged to say, helps him and us.In explaining his thought to others, he ex-plains it to himself: but when he opens it forshow, it corrupts him.

Society is the stage on which manners areshown ; novels arc their literature. Novelsare the journal or record of manners ; and thenew importance of these books derives fromthe fact, that the novelist begins to penetratethe surface, and treat this part of life moreworthily. The novels used to be all alike, andhad a quite vulgar tone. The novels used tolead us on to a foolish interest in the fortunesof the boy and girl they described. The boywas to be raised from a humble to a high posi-tion. He was in want of a wife and a castle,


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BEHAVIOR. 71and the object of the story was to supply himwith one or both. We watched sympatheti-cally, step by step, his climbing, until, at last,the point is gained, the wedding day is fixed,and we follow the gala procession home to thecastle, when the doors are slammed in our face,and the poor reader is left outside in the cold,not enriched by so much as an idea or a vir-tuous impulse.

But the victories of character are instant,and victories for all. Its greatness enlargesall. We are fortified by every heroic anecdote.The novels are as useful as Bibles, if they teachyou the secret, that the best of life is conversa-tion, and the greatesl success is confidence, orperfect understanding between sincere people.'T is, a French definition of friendship, Hen ques'entendre, good understanding. The highestcompact we can make with our fellow is,Let there be truth between us two forever-more. That is the charm in all good novels,as it is the charm in all good histories, thatthe heroes mutually understand, from the first,and deal loyally, and with a profound trust ineach other. It is sublime to feel and say ofanother, I need never meet, or speak, or writeto him : we need not reinforce ourselves, or


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BEHAVIOR. 73gels came from far, to see him, and take uptheir abode with him. The angel that wassent to find a place of torment for him at-tempted to remove him to a worse pit, butwith no better success; for such was t he con-tented spirit of the monk, that he found some-thing to praise in every place and company,though in hell, and made a kind of heaven ofit. At last the escorting angel returned withhis prisoner to them that sent him, saving, thatno phlegethon could be found that would burnhim ; for that, in whatever condition, Basle re-mained incorrigibly Basle. The legend says,his sentence was remitted, and he was al-lowed to go into heaven, and was canonized asa saint.

There is a stroke of magnanimity in thecorrespondence of Bonaparte with his brotherJoseph, when the latter was king of Spain, andcomplained that he missed La Napoleon's lettersthe affectionate tone which had marked theirchildish correspondence. I am sorry, re-plies Napoleon, you think yon shall findyour brother again only in the Klvsian Fields.It is natural, that at forty, he should not feeltowards you as he did at twelve. But hisfeelings towards you have greater truth and


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74 BEHAVIOR.strength. His friendship has the features ofhis mind.How much we forgive to those who yield usthe rare spectacle of heroic manners Wewill pardon them the want of books, of arts,and even of the gentler virtues. How tena-ciously we remember them Here is a lessonwhich I brought along with me in boyhoodfrom the Latin School, and which ranks withthe best of Roman anecdotes. Marcus Scau-rus was accused by Quintus Varius Hispanus,that he had excited the allies to take armsagainst the republic. But he, full of firm-ness and gravity, defended himself in this man-ner : Quintus Varius Hispanus alleges thatMarcus Scaurus, President of the Senate, ex-cited the allies to arms : Marcus Scaurus, Presi-dent of the Senate, denies it, There is nowitness. Which do you believe, Romans?Utri crcditis, Quirites ? When he had saidthese words, he was absolved by the assemblyof the people.

I have seen manners that make a similarimpression with personal beauty ; that give thelike exhilaration, and refine us like that ; and,in memorable experiences, they are suddenlybetter than beauty, and make that superfluous


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BEHAVIOR,. 75and ugly. But they must be marked by fineperception, the acquaintance with real beauty.They must always show self-control : you shallnot be facile, apologetic, or leaky, but kingover your word ; and every gesture and actionshall indicate power at rest. Then they mustbe inspired by the good heart. There is nobeautifier of complexion, or form, or behavior,like the wish to scatter joy and not pain aroundus. 'T is good to give a stranger a meal or anight's lodging. 'T is better to be hospitableto his good meaning and thought, and givecourage to a companion. We must be ascourteous to a man as we are to a picture,which we are willing to give the advantage ofa good light. Special precepts are not to bethought of: the talent of well-doing containsthem all. Every hour will show a duty asparamount as that of my whim just now;and yet I will write it, that there is onetopic peremptorily forbidden to all well-bred,to all rational mortals, namely, their distem-pers. If you have not slept, or if you haveslept, or if you have headache, or sciatica, orleprosy, or thunder-stroke, I beseech you, byall angels, to hold your peace, and not pollutethe morning, to which all the housemates bring


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7G BEHAVIOR.serene and pleasant thoughts, by corruptionand groans. Come out of the azure. Lovethe day. Do not leave the sky out of yourlandscape. The oldest and the most deservingperson should come very modestly Into anynewly awaked company, respecting the divinecommunications, out of which all must bepresumed to have newly come. An old manwho added an elevating culture to a large ex-perience of life said to me, When you comeinto the room, I think I will study how tomake humanity beautiful to you.As respects the delicate question of culture,I do not think that any other than negative

rules can be laid down. For positive rides,for suggestion. Nature alone inspires it. Whodare assume to guide a youth, a maid, to per-fect manners ? the golden mean is so delicate,difficult, say frankly, unattainable. Whatfinest hands would not be clumsy to sketch thegenial precepts of the young girl's demeanor?The chances seem infinite againsi success: andvet success is continually attained. Theremust not be secondariness, and '1 isathousandto one that her air and manner will at oncebetray that she is not primary, but that there issome other one or many of her class, to whom


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BEHAVIOR. 77she habitually postpones herself. But Naturelifts her easily, and without knowing it, overthese impossibilities, and we are continuallysurprised with graces and felicities not onlyunteachablc, but undescribable.


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BEAUTY.

Was never form and never faceSo sweet to Seyd as only graceWhich did not slumber like a stoneBut hovered gleaming and was gone.Beauty chased he everywhere,In flame, in storm, in clouds of air.He smote the lake to feed his eye

With the beryl beam of the broken wave,He flung in pebbles well to hearThe moment's music which they gave.

Oft pealed for him a lofty toneFrom nodding pole and belting zone.He heard a voice none else could hearFrom centred and from errant sphere.The quaking earth did quake in rhyme,Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime.In dens of passion, and pits of woe,He saw strong Eros struggling through,To sun the dark and solve the curse,And beam to the bounds of the universe.


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80 BEAUTY.While thus to love he gave his daysIn loyal worship, scorning praise,How spread their lures for him, in vain,Thieving Ambition and paltering GainHe thought it happier to be dead,To die for Beauty, than live for bread.


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BEAUTYHE spiral tendency of vegetation infectseducation also. Our books approachvery slowly the things we most wish to

know. What a parade we make of our science,and how far off, and at arm's length, it isfrom its objects Our botany is all names,not powers : poets and romancers talk of herbsof grace and healing ; but what does the bot-anist know of the virtues of his weeds ? Thegeologist lays bare the strata, and can tell themall on his fingers ; but does he know whateffect passes into the man who builds his housein them ? what effect on the race that inhabitsa granite shelf? what on the inhabitants ofmarl and of alluvium ?We should go to the ornithologist with anew feeling, if he could teach us what the so-


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82 BEAUTY.cial birds say, when they sit in the autumncouncil, talking together in the trees. Thewant of sympathy makes his record a dull dic-tionary. His result is a dead bird. The birdis not in its ounces and inches, but in its rela-tions to nature; and tbe skin or skeleton youshow me is no more a heron, than a heap ofashes or a bottle of gases into which his bodyhas been reduced, is Dante or Washington.The naturalist is ledyjww the road by the wholedistance of his fancied advance. The boy hadjuster views when lie gazed at the shells on thebeach, or the flowers in the meadow, unable tocall them by their names, than the man in thepride of his nomenclature. Astrology inter-ested us, for it tied man to the system. In-stead of an isolated beggar, the farthest starfelt him, and he felt the star. However rashand however falsified by pretenders and trad-ers in it, the hint was true and divine, thesoul's avowal of its large relations, and, thatclimate, century, remote natures, as well asnear, are part of its biography. Chemistrytakes to pieces, but it does not construct.Alchemy which sought to transmute one ele-ment into another, to prolong life, to arm withpower, that was in the right direction. All


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BEAUTY. 83our science lacks a human side. The tenant ismore than the house. Bugs and stamens andspores, on which we lavish so many years, arenot finalities; and man, when his powers un-fold in order, will take Nature along \\ ith him,and emit light into all her recesses. The hu-man heart concerns us more than the poringinto ' microscopes, and is larger than can bemeasured by the pompous figures of the as-tronomer.We are just so frivolous and sceptical. Menhold themselves cheap and vile ; and yet a manis a fagot of thunderbolts. All the elementspour through his system : he is the flood ofthe flood, and fire of the fire ; he feels the an-tipodes and the pole, as drops of his blood :they are the extension of his personality. 1 lisduties are measured by that instrument he is;and a righi and perfect man would be felt tothe centre of the Copernican system. 'T iscurious that we only believe as dec]) as we live.We do not think heroes can exert any moreawful power than that surface-play whichamuses us. A deep man believes in miracles,waits for them, believes in magic, believes thatthe orator will decompose his adversary; be-lieves that the evil eye can wither, that the


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84 BEAUTY.heart's blessing can heal; thai love can exalttalenl ; can overcome all odds. From a greathearl secret magnetisms flow incessantly todraw uiv.it events. Bui we prizevery humbleutilities, a prudenl husband, a good Bon, avoter, a citizen, and deprecate any romance

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