For the past few years, I’ve been systematically reading through the Harvard Classics in numerical order. Finished Emerson sometime in December and I can say I was pleasantly surprised. As is the case with many of the HVCs, this one was another anthology. Gratefully, it featured only one author so I didn’t have to pretend there’s some thematic unity in the whole kit.
So Emerson.
He is the quintessential American voice. I’m not saying I like that or hate that – I’m not making an evaluative statement whatsoever. I’m saying after you read Emerson, everything from Dale Carnegie to Ernest` Hemmingway makes sense. You suddenly find yourself understanding the roots of self-help culture, of the American idea of genius and individuality, of our obsession with nature and the variegated influences we pull from at any moment – our grab-bag of culture that created the beat poets and the idea of “cross-training.” Emerson is the quintessential American voice, love him or hate him, take him or leave him.
And honestly, I liked most of him. About 80% of his thoughts and paragraphs had me raving for days. The other 20% was bull on the level of many well-intentioned intellectuals who use clever words and convoluted observations to justify their flawed life choices. Was that firm enough? Because I meant to be firmer…
That said, I don’t feel like I was fully pulling from the classics I’ve read until I read Emerson. Specifically in his article on Shakespeare, he delves into how a genius finds himself standing in the river of man. I even wrote a song about this bit and shared the quote with other songwriters who considered doing the same. Honestly, this is going to sound arrogant or presumptuous or whatever, but I don’t care because it’s honest and there are people out there who are going to find themselves feeling the exact same way, so I’m about to say what I’m about to say for them, not those who would call me arrogant – I’ve found myself often looking for a mentor in nonprofit or writing or business work in my life, for family counsel or for friendship. In Emerson – and recently through some obscure Lewis – I’m realizing that I wasn’t truly looking for a niche mentor to help me with a niche market or sector in my life. Instead, I was looking for a master, a yogi, a rabbi whom I could follow for a decade and learn everything he knows – preferably one well-schooled in the dead languages and classics, a Christian, and a prolific writer. When in despair I’ve found myself both too obscure (or inept) to attract such a mentor and too often surrounded by specialists rather than medieval or romantic minds, I instead have taken solace in the classics. Emerson, in this process, has shown me how the greats have always stood in the river of men and found their uniqueness as the specific intersection of all of the classic ideas out there.
So this one taught me that I need to finish the set, come hell or high water.
And Robert Burn’s poetry in volume 6 is honestly a bit of both.