Back Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Title Page
  3. Foreword by Robert D. Richardson Jr.
  4. NATURE (1836)
  5. Introduction
  6. CHAPTER I
  7. CHAPTER II
  8. CHAPTER III
  9. CHAPTER IV
  10. CHAPTER V
  11. CHAPTER VI
  12. CHAPTER VII
  13. CHAPTER VIII
  14. EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
  15. Pray Without Ceasing (1826)
  16. Ethics (1837)
  17. The American Scholar (1837)
  18. Cherokee Letter (1838)
  19. The Divinity School Address (1838)
  20. From ESSAYS, FIRST SERIES (1841)
  21. History
  22. Self-Reliance
  23. The Over-Soul
  24. Circles
  25. From ESSAYS, SECOND SERIES (1844)
  26. The Poet
  27. Experience
  28. Politics
  29. From REPRESENTATIVE MEN (1850)
  30. Uses of Great Men
  31. Montaigne; or, the Skeptic
  32. LATER ESSAYS AND LECTURES
  33. Emancipation in the British West Indies (1844)
  34. Woman (1855)
  35. Thoreau (1862)
  36. POEMS
  37. Concord Hymn
  38. Additional Reading
  39. Note on the Text
  40. Ask Your Bookseller for these Bantam Classics
  41. About the Author
  42. Copyright

If now we proceed to inquire into the kinds of service we derive from others, let us be warned of the danger of modern studies, and begin low enough. We must not contend against love, or deny the substantial existence of other people. I know not what would happen to us. We have social strengths. Our affection towards others creates a sort of vantage or purchase which nothing will supply. I can do that by another which I cannot do alone. I can say to you what I cannot first say to myself. Other men are lenses through which we read our own minds. Each man seeks those of different quality from his own, and such as are good of their kind; that is, he seeks other men, and the otherest. The stronger the nature, the more it is reactive. Let us have the quality pure. A little genius let us leave alone. A main difference betwixt men is, whether they attend their own affair or not. Man is that noble endogenous plant which grows, like the palm, from within, outward. His own affair, though impossible to others, he can open with celerity and in sport. It is easy to sugar to be sweet, and to nitre to be salt. We take a great deal of pains to waylay and entrap that which of itself will fall into our hands. I count him a great man who inhabits a higher sphere of thought, into which other men rise with labor and difficulty; he has but to open his eyes to see things in a true light, and in large relations; whilst they must make painful corrections, and keep a vigilant eye on many sources of error. His service to us is of like sort. It costs a beautiful person no exertion to paint her image on our eyes; yet how splendid is that benefit! It costs no more for a wise soul to convey his quality to other men. And every one can do his best thing easiest. “Peu de moyens, beaucoup d’effet.” He is great who is what he is from nature, and who never reminds us of others.

But he must be related to us, and our life receive from him some promise of explanation. I cannot tell what I would know; but I have observed there are persons who, in their character and actions, answer questions which I have not skill to put. One man answers some question which none of his contemporaries put, and is isolated. The past and passing religions and philosophies answer some other question. Certain men affect us as rich possibilities, but helpless to themselves and to their times,—the sport, perhaps, of some instinct that rules in the air;—they do not speak to our want. But the great are near; we know them at sight. They satisfy expectation, and fall into place. What is good is effective, generative; makes for itself room, food, and allies. A sound apple produces seed,—a hybrid does not. Is a man in his place, he is constructive, fertile, magnetic, inundating armies with his purpose, which is thus executed. The river makes its own shores, and each legitimate idea makes its own channels and welcome,—harvests for food, institutions for expression, weapons to fight with, and disciples to explain it. The true artist has the planet for his pedestal; the adventurer, after years of strife, has nothing broader than his own shoes.