But the subject of the Times is not an abstract question. We talk of
the world, but we mean a few men and women. If you speak of the age,
you mean your own platoon of people, as Dante and Milton painted in
colossal their platoons, and called them Heaven and Hell. In our idea
of progress we do not go out of this personal picture. We do not think
the sky will be bluer, or honey sweeter, or our climate more
temperate, but only that our relation to our fellows will be simpler
and happier. What is the reason to be given for this extreme
attraction which _persons_ have for us, but that they are the Age?
They are the results of the Past; they are the heralds of the Future.
They indicate--these witty, suffering, blushing, intimidating figures
of the only race in which there are individuals or changes--how far on
the Fate has gone, and what it drives at. As trees make scenery, and
constitute the hospitality of the landscape, so persons are the world
to persons.... These are the pungent instructors who thrill the heart
of each of us, and make all other teaching formal and cold. How I
follow them with aching heart, with pining desire! I count myself
nothing before them. I would die for them with joy. They can do what
they will with me. How they lash us with those tongues! How they make
the tears start, make us blush and turn pale, and lap us in Elysium to
soothing dreams and castles in the air! By tones of triumph, of dear
love, by threats, by pride that freezes, these have the skill to make
the world look bleak and inhospitable, or seem the nest of tenderness
and joy. I do not wonder at the miracles which poetry attributes to
the music of Orpheus, when I remember what I have experienced from the
varied notes of the human voice. They are an incalculable energy which
countervails all other forces in nature, because they are the channel
of supernatural powers. There is no interest or institution so poor
and withered but if a new strong man could be born into it he would
immediately redeem and replace it. A personal ascendency,--that is the
only fact much worth considering. I remember, some years ago, somebody
shocked a circle of friends of order here in Boston, who supposed that
our people were identified with their religious denominations, by
declaring that an eloquent man--let him be of what sect soever--would
be ordained at once in one of our metropolitan churches. To be sure he
would; and not only in ours but in any church, mosque, or temple on
the planet: but he must be eloquent, able to supplant our method and
classification by the superior beauty of his own. Every fact we have
was brought here by some person; and there is none that will not
change and pass away before a person whose nature is broader than the
person whom the fact in question represents. And so I find the Age
walking about in happy and hopeful natures, in strong eyes and
pleasant thoughts, and think I read it nearer and truer so than in the
statute-book, or in the investments of capital, which rather celebrate
with mournful music the obsequies of the last age. In the brain of a
fanatic; in the wild hope of a mountain boy, called by city boys very
ignorant, because they do not know what his hope has certainly
apprised him shall be; in the love-glance of a girl; in the
hair-splitting conscientiousness of some eccentric person who has
found some new scruple to embarrass himself and his neighbors
withal,--is to be found that which shall constitute the times to come,
more than in the now organized and accredited oracles. For whatever is
affirmative and now advancing contains it. I think that only is real
which men love and rejoice in; not what they tolerate, but what they
choose; what they embrace and avow, and not the things which chill,
benumb, and terrify them.
And so why not draw for these times a portrait gallery? Let us paint
the painters. Whilst the daguerreotypist, with camera-obscura and
silver plate, begins now to traverse the land, let us set up our
camera also, and let the sun paint the people. Let us paint the
agitator, and the man of the old school, and the member of Congress,
and the college professor, the formidable editor, the priest, and
reformer, the contemplative girl, and the fair aspirant for fashion
and opportunities, the woman of the world who has tried and knows--let
us examine how well she knows. Could we indicate the indicators,
indicate those who most accurately represent every good and evil
tendency of the general mind, in the just order which they take on
this canvas of time, so that all witnesses should recognize a
spiritual law, as each well-known form flitted for a moment across the
wall, we should have a series of sketches which would report to the
next ages the color and quality of ours.
Certainly I think if this were done there would be much to admire as
well as to condemn; souls of as lofty a port as any in Greek or Roman
fame might appear; men of great heart, of strong hand, and of
persuasive speech; subtle thinkers, and men of wide sympathy, and an
apprehension which looks over all history and everywhere recognizes
its own. To be sure, there will be fragments and hints of men, more
than enough; bloated promises, which end in nothing or little. And
then, truly great men, but with some defect in their composition which
neutralizes their whole force. Here is a Damascus blade, such as you
may search through nature in vain to parallel, laid up on the shelf in
some village to rust and ruin. And how many seem not quite available
for that idea which they represent! Now and then comes a bolder
spirit, I should rather say, a more surrendered soul, more informed
and led by God, which is much in advance of the rest, quite beyond
their sympathy, but predicts what shall soon be the general fullness;
as when we stand by the sea-shore, whilst the tide is coming in, a
wave comes up the beach far higher than any foregoing one, and
recedes; and for a long while none comes up to that mark; but after
some time the whole sea is there and beyond it.