CHAPTER VII

I HATE THIS SHALLOW AMERICANISM

“_I hate this shallow Americanism which hopes to get rich by credits,

to get knowledge by raps on midnight tables, to learn the economy

of mind by phrenology, or skill without study, or mastery without

apprenticeship, or sale of goods through pretending they will sell, or

power through making believe you are powerful. They think they have

got it, but they have got something else._”

A contemporary of Emerson was Judge Haliburton of Nova Scotia, the

creator of Sam Slick. Mr. Slick of Slickville, Connecticut, was a

typical Yankee as seen by neighbors across the northern border. He

was shrewd, enterprising, inquisitive, good-humored, and in his way

religious. He was an ardent patriot, with his eye on the main chance.

He was good at a bargain, and still better at an argument in defense

of his rectitude in the transaction. He was no hypocrite, for he saw

no reason to pretend to be something which he was not. He was simply

a plain American citizen and he didn’t care who knew it. There were

thousands in Connecticut just as good as he was. He felt it a privilege

to represent the Great Republic.

The blatant Americanism of Sam Slick must be compared with the solid

English complacency of Mr. Podsnap. Both were caricatures of national

failings which were easily recognizable. Emerson was enough of an

American to understand Sam Slick and to laugh with him as well as to

laugh at him, but he recognized that this shallow Americanism had its

dangers.

The very ease with which the American could make a living made

him overestimate his own powers. He took the gifts of nature in a

new continent for rewards for his own merit. Bold as he was and

self-assertive in little things, he lacked in any standard by which to

judge himself. He was gregarious in his mental habits, and curiously

averse to strenuous intellectual effort.

“The timidity of our public opinion is our disease, or shall I say

_the publicness_ of our opinion, the absence of private opinion. Good

nature is plentiful but we want justice with heart of steel to fight

down the proud.” America has not produced a sufficient number of men

who will instinctively throw themselves “on the side of weakness, of

youth, of hope; on the liberal, on the expansive side, never on the

defensive, the conserving, the timorous, the lock-and-bolt system.”

“I find no expression in our State papers or legislative debate in

our lyceums or churches, especially in our newspapers, of a high

national feeling, no lofty counsels that rightfully stir the blood.

I speak of those organs which can be presumed to speak a popular

sense. They recommend conventional virtues, whatever will earn and

preserve property; always the capitalist, the college, the church, the

hospital, the theater, the hotel, the road, the ship, the capitalist,

whatever goes to secure, adorn, enlarge these is good; whatever

jeopardizes any of these is damnable.”

This description of a familiar kind of Americanism in 1844 is easily

recognizable in 1920. The shallow reformers are equally familiar.

“Many a reformer perishes in the removal of rubbish, and that makes

the offensiveness of this class. They are partial, they are not equal

to the work they pretend. They lose their way in the assault on the

kingdom of darkness; they expend all their energy on some accidental

evil, and lose their sanity and power of benefit. It is of little

moment that one or two or twenty errors in our social system be

corrected, but of much that the man be in his senses.”

No foreign critic has ever pointed out more clearly the faults of the

American temperament. But shallow Americanism, with its boastfulness

and its conventionality, can not blind him to the ideal America that

lies far deeper. It is yet in the making.

“We cannot look on the freedom of this country, in connection

with its youth, without a presentiment that here shall laws and

institutions exist on some scale of proportion to the majesty of

nature. To men legislating for the area betwixt the two oceans,

betwixt the snows and the tropics, somewhat of the grandeur of nature

will infuse itself into the code. A heterogeneous population crowding

on all ships from all corners of the world to the great gates of

North America, namely, Boston, New York, and New Orleans, and thence

proceeding inward to the prairie and the mountains, and quickly

contributing their private thought to the public opinion, their toll

to the treasury, and their vote to the election, it cannot be doubted

that the legislation of this country should become more catholic and

cosmopolitan than that of any other. It seems so easy for America to

inspire and express the most expansive and humane spirit; new-born,

free, healthful, strong, the land of the labourer, of the democrat, of

the philanthropist, of the believer, of the saint, she should speak

for the human race. It is the country of the future. Like Washington,

proverbially ‘the city of magnificent distances,’ through all its

cities, States, and Territories, it is a country of beginnings, of

projects, of designs, and expectations.

“Gentlemen, there is a sublime and friendly Destiny by which the human

race is guided--the race never dying, the individual never spared--to

results affecting masses and ages. Men are narrow and selfish, but the

Genius or Destiny is not narrow, but beneficent. It is not discovered

in their calculated and voluntary activity, but in what befalls, with

or without their design.”

Emerson believed as much as the politicians of his day in Manifest

Destiny. But he hoped for the country a destiny greater than that

which the politicians planned. The commercial progress of the day was

something to rejoice in as a part of a great onward movement. But

commercialism was not the end toward which the nation was moving.

“Our part is plainly not to throw ourselves across the track, to block

improvement, and sit till we are stone, but to watch the uprise

of successive mornings, and to conspire with the work of new days.

Government has been a fossil; it should be a plant. I conceive that

the office of statute law should be to express, and not to impede the

mind of mankind. New thoughts, new things. Trade was one instrument,

but Trade is also for a time, and must give way to something broader

and better, whose signs are already dawning in the sky.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson(#78986) · 第 7 / 22 章