Nonfiction > Ralph Waldo Emerson > The Complete Works
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882).  The Complete Works.  1904.
Vol. V. English Traits
XIII. Religion
NO people at the present day can be explained by their national religion. They do not feel responsible for it; it lies far outside of them. Their loyalty to truth and their labor and expenditure rest on real foundations, and not on a national church. And English life, it is evident, does not grow out of the Athanasian creed, or the Articles, or the Eucharist. It is with religion as with marriage. A youth marries in haste; afterwards, when his mind is opened to the reason of the conduct of life, he is asked what he thinks of the institution of marriage and of the right relations of the sexes? ‘I should have much to say,’ he might reply, ‘if the question were open, but I have a wife and children, and all question is closed for me.’ In the barbarous days of a nation, some cultus is formed or imported; altars are built, tithes are paid, priests ordained. The education and expenditure of the country take that direction, and when wealth, refinement, great men, and ties to the world supervene, its prudent men say, Why fight against Fate, or lift these absurdities which are now mountainous? Better find some niche or crevice in this mountain of stone which religious ages have quarried and carved, wherein to bestow yourself, than attempt anything ridiculously and dangerously above your strength, like removing it. 1  1
  In seeing old castles and cathedrals, I sometimes say, as to-day in front of Dundee Church tower, which is eight hundred years old, ‘This was built by another and a better race than any that now look on it.’ 2 And plainly there has been great power of sentiment at work in this island, of which these buildings are the proofs; as volcanic basalts show the work of fire which has been extinguished for ages. England felt the full heat of the Christianity which fermented Europe, and drew, like the chemistry of fire, a firm line between barbarism and culture. The power of the religious sentiment put an end to human sacrifices, checked appetite, inspired the crusades, inspired resistance to tyrants, inspired self-respect, set bounds to serfdom and slavery, founded liberty, created the religious architecture,—York, Newstead, Westminster, Fountains Abbey, Ripon, Beverley and Dundee,—works to which the key is lost, with the sentiment which created them; inspired the English Bible, the liturgy, the monkish histories, the chronicle of Richard of Devizes. 3 The priest translated the Vulgate, and translated the sanctities of old hagiology into English virtues on English ground. It was a certain affirmative or aggressive state of the Caucasian races. Man awoke refreshed by the sleep of ages. The violence of the northern savages exasperated Christianity into power. It lived by the love of the people. Bishop Wilfrid manumitted two hundred and fifty serfs, whom he found attached to the soil. The clergy obtained respite from labor for the boor on the Sabbath and on church festivals. “The lord who compelled his boor to labor between sunset on Saturday and sunset on Sunday, forfeited him altogether.” The priest came out of the people and sympathized with his class. The church was the mediator, check and democratic principle, in Europe. Latimer, Wicliffe, Arundel, Cobham, Antony Parsons, Sir Harry Vane, George Fox, Penn, Bunyan are the democrats, as well as the saints of their times. The Catholic Church, thrown on this toiling, serious people, has made in fourteen centuries a massive system, close fitted to the manners and genius of the country, at once domestical and stately. In the long time, it has blended with everything in heaven above and the earth beneath. It moves through a zodiac of feasts and fasts, names every day of the year, every town and market and headland and monument, and has coupled itself with the almanac, that no court can be held, no field ploughed, no horse shod, without some leave from the church. All maxims of prudence or shop or farm are fixed and dated by the church. Hence its strength in the agricultural districts. The distribution of land into parishes enforces a church sanction to every civil privilege; and the gradation of the clergy,—prelates for the rich and curates for the poor,—with the fact that a classical education has been secured to the clergyman, makes them “the link which unites the sequestered peasantry with the intellectual advancement of the age.” 4  2
  The English Church has many certificates to show of humble effective service in humanizing the people, in cheering and refining men, feeding, healing and educating. It has the seal of martyrs and confessors; the noblest books; a sublime architecture; a ritual marked by the same secular merits, nothing cheap or purchasable.  3
  From this slow-grown church important reactions proceed; much for culture, much for giving a direction to the nation’s affection and will to-day. The carved and pictured chapel—its entire surface animated with image and emblem—made the parish-church a sort of book and Bible to the people’s eye.  4
  Then, when the Saxon instinct had secured a service in the vernacular tongue, it was the tutor and university of the people. In York minster, on the day of the enthronization of the new archbishop, I heard the service of evening prayer read and chanted in the choir. It was strange to hear the pretty pastoral of the betrothal of Rebecca and Isaac, in the morning of the world, read with circumstantiality in York minster, on the 13th January, 1848, to the decorous English audience, just fresh from the Times newspaper and their wine, and listening with all the devotion of national pride. That was binding old and new to some purpose. The reverence for the Scriptures is an element of civilization, for thus has the history of the world been preserved and is preserved. Here in England every day a chapter of Genesis, and a leader in the Times.  5
  Another part of the same service on this occasion was not insignificant. Handel’s coronation anthem, God save the King, was played by Dr. Camidge on the organ, with sublime effect. The minster and the music were made for each other. It was a hint of the part the church plays as a political engine. From his infancy, every Englishman is accustomed to hear daily prayers for the Queen, for the royal family and the Parliament, by name; and this lifelong consecration cannot be without influence on his opinions.  6
  The universities also are parcel of the ecclesiastical system, and their first design is to form the clergy. Thus the clergy for a thousand years have been the scholars of the nation.  7
  The national temperament deeply enjoys the unbroken order and tradition of its church; the liturgy, ceremony, architecture; the sober grace, the good company, the connection with the throne and with history, which adorn it. And whilst it endears itself thus to men of more taste than activity, the stability of the English nation is passionately enlisted to its support, from its inextricable connection with the cause of public order, with politics and with the funds. 5  8
  Good churches are not built by bad men; at least there must be probity and enthusiasm somewhere in the society. These minsters were neither built nor filled by atheists. No church has had more learned, industrious or devoted men; plenty of “clerks and bishops, who, out of their gowns, would turn their backs on no man.” 6 Their architecture still glows with faith in immortality. Heats and genial periods arrive in history, or, shall we say, plenitudes of Divine Presence, by which high tides are caused in the human spirit, and great virtues and talents appear, as in the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and again in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when the nation was full of genius and piety.  9
  But the age of the Wicliffes, Cobhams, Arundels, Beckets; of the Latimers, Mores, Cranmers; of the Taylors, Leightons, Herberts; of the Sherlocks and Butlers, is gone. Silent revolutions in opinion have made it impossible that men like these should return, or find a place in their once sacred stalls. The spirit that dwelt in this church has glided away to animate other activities, and they who come to the old shrines find apes and players rustling the old garments.  10
  The religion of England is part of good-breeding. 7 When you see on the continent the well-dressed Englishman come into his ambassador’s chapel and put his face for silent prayer into his smooth-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling how much national pride prays with him, and the religion of a gentleman. So far is he from attaching any meaning to the words, that he believes himself to have done almost the generous thing, and that it is very condescending in him to pray to God. A great duke said on the occasion of a victory, in the House of Lords, that he thought the Almighty God had not been well used by them, and that it would become their magnanimity, after so great successes, to take order that a proper acknowledgment be made. It is the church of the gentry, but it is not the church of the poor. The operatives do not own it, and gentlemen lately testified in the House of Commons that in their lives they never saw a poor man in a ragged coat inside a church.  11
  The torpidity on the side of religion of the vigorous English understanding shows how much wit and folly can agree in one brain. Their religion is a quotation; their church is a doll; and any examination is interdicted with screams of terror. In good company you expect them to laugh at the fanaticism of the vulgar; but they do not; they are the vulgar. 8  12
  The English, in common perhaps with Christendom in the nineteenth century, do not respect power, but only performance; value ideas only for an economic result. Wellington esteems a saint only as far as he can be an army chaplain: “Mr. Briscoll, by his admirable conduct and good sense, got the better of Methodism, which had appeared among the soldiers and once among the officers.” They value a philosopher as they value an apothecary who brings bark or a drench; and inspiration is only some blowpipe, or a finer mechanical aid.  13
  I suspect that there is in an Englishman’s brain a valve that can be closed at pleasure, as an engineer shuts off steam. The most sensible and well-informed men possess the power of thinking just so far as the bishop in religious matters, and as the chancellor of the exchequer in politics. They talk with courage and logic, and show you magnificent results, but the same men who have brought free trade or geology to their present standing, look grave and lofty and shut down their valve as soon as the conversation approaches the English Church. After that, you talk with a box-turtle. 9  14
  The action of the university, both in what is taught and in the spirit of the place, is directed more on producing an English gentleman, than a saint or a psychologist. It ripens a bishop, and extrudes a philosopher. I do not know that there is more cabalism in the Anglican than in other churches, but the Anglican clergy are identified with the aristocracy. They say here, that if you talk with a clergyman, you are sure to find him well-bred, informed and candid: he entertains your thought or your project with sympathy and praise. But if a second clergyman come in, the sympathy is at an end: two together are inaccessible to your thought, and whenever it comes to action, the clergyman invariably sides with his church.  15
  The Anglican Church is marked by the grace and good sense of its forms, by the manly grace of its clergy. The gospel it preaches is ‘By taste are ye saved.’ It keeps the old structures in repair, spends a world of money in music and building, and in buying Pugin 10 and architectural literature. It has a general good name for amenity and mildness. It is not in ordinary a persecuting church; it is not inquisitorial, not even inquisitive; is perfectly well-bred, and can shut its eyes on all proper occasions. If you let it alone, it will let you alone. But its instinct is hostile to all change in politics, literature, or social arts. The church has not been the founder of the London University, of the Mechanics’ Institutes, of the Free School, of whatever aims at diffusion of knowledge. The Platonists of Oxford are as bitter against this heresy, as Thomas Taylor. 11  16
  The doctrine of the Old Testament is the religion of England. 12 The first leaf of the New Testament it does not open. It believes in a Providence which does not treat with levity a pound sterling. They are neither transcendentalists nor Christians. They put up no Socratic prayer, much less any saintly prayer for the Queen’s mind; ask neither for light nor right, but say bluntly, “Grant her in health and wealth long to live.” And one traces this Jewish prayer in all English private history, from the prayers of King Richard, in Richard of Devizes’ Chronicle, 13 to those in the diaries of Sir Samuel Romilly and of Haydon the painter. “Abroad with my wife,” writes Pepys piously, “the first time that ever I rode in my own coach; which do make my heart rejoice and praise God, and pray him to bless it to me, and continue it.” 14 The bill for the naturalization of the Jews (in 1753) was resisted by petitions from all parts of the kingdom, and by petition from the city of London, reprobating this bill, as “tending extremely to the dishonor of the Christian religion and extremely injurious to the interests and commerce of the kingdom in general, and of the city of London in particular.” 15  17
  But they have not been able to congeal humanity by act of Parliament. “The heavens journey still and sojourn not,” and arts, wars, discoveries and opinion go onward at their own pace. The new age has new desires, new enemies, new trades, new charities, and reads the Scriptures with new eyes. 16 The chatter of French politics, the steam-whistle, the hum of the mill and the noise of embarking emigrants had quite put most of the old legends out of mind; so that when you came to read the liturgy to a modern congregation, it was almost absurd in its unfitness, and suggested a masquerade of old costumes.  18
  No chemist has prospered in the attempt to crystallize a religion. It is endogenous, like the skin and other vital organs. A new statement every day. The prophet and apostle knew this, and the nonconformist confutes the conformists, by quoting the texts they must allow. It is the condition of a religion to require religion for its expositor. Prophet and apostle can only be rightly understood by prophet and apostle. The statesman knows that the religious element will not fail, any more than the supply of fibrine and chyle; but it is in its nature constructive, and will organize such a church as it wants. The wise legislator will spend on temples, schools, libraries, colleges, but will shun the enriching of priests. If in any manner he can leave the election and paying of the priest to the people, he will do well. Like the Quakers, he may resist the separation of a class of priests, and create opportunity and expectation in the society to run to meet natural endowment in this kind. But when wealth accrues to a chaplaincy, a bishopric, or rectorship, it requires moneyed men for its stewards, who will give it another direction than to the mystics of their day. Of course, money will do after its kind, and will steadily work to unspiritualize and unchurch the people to whom it was bequeathed. The class certain to be excluded from all preferment are the religious,—and driven to other churches; which is nature’s vis medicatrix.  19
  The curates are ill paid, and the prelates are overpaid. This abuse draws into the church the children of the nobility and other unfit persons who have a taste for expense. Thus a bishop is only a surpliced merchant. Through his lawn I can see the bright buttons of the shopman’s coat glitter. A wealth like that of Durham makes almost a premium on felony. Brougham, in a speech in the House of Commons on the Irish elective franchise, said, “How will the reverend bishops of the other house be able to express their due abhorrence of the crime of perjury, who solemnly declare in the presence of God that when they are called upon to accept a living, perhaps of £4000 a year, at that very instant they are moved by the Holy Ghost to accept the office and administration thereof, and for no other reason whatever?” The modes of initiation are more damaging than custom-house oaths. The Bishop is elected by the Dean and Prebends of the cathedral. The Queen sends these gentlemen a congé d’élire, or leave to elect; but also sends them the name of the person whom they are to elect. They go into the cathedral, chant and pray and beseech the Holy Ghost to assist them in their choice; and, after these invocations, invariably find that the dictates of the Holy Ghost agree with the recommendations of the Queen.  20
  But you must pay for conformity. All goes well as long as you run with conformists. But you, who are an honest man in other particulars, know that there is alive somewhere a man whose honesty reaches to this point also that he shall not kneel to false gods, and on the day when you meet him, you sink into the class of counterfeits. Besides, this succumbing has grave penalties. If you take in a lie, you must take in all that belongs to it. England accepts this ornamented national church, and it glazes the eyes, bloats the flesh, gives the voice a stertorous clang, and clouds the understanding of the receivers.  21
  The English Church, undermined by German criticism, had nothing left but tradition; and was led logically back to Romanism. But that was an element which only hot heads could breathe: in view of the educated class, generally, it was not a fact to front the sun; and the alienation of such men from the church became complete. 17  22
  Nature, to be sure, had her remedy. Religious persons are driven out of the Established Church into sects, which instantly rise to credit and hold the Establishment in check. 18 Nature has sharper remedies, also. The English, abhorring change in all things, abhorring it most in matters of religion, cling to the last rag of form, and are dreadfully given to cant. The English (and I wish it were confined to them, but ’t is a taint in the Anglo-Saxon blood in both hemispheres),—the English and the Americans cant beyond all other nations. The French relinquish all that industry to them. What is so odious as the polite bows to God, in our books and newspapers? The popular press is flagitious in the exact measure of its sanctimony, and the religion of the day is a theatrical Sinai, where the thunders are supplied by the property-man. The fanaticism and hypocrisy create satire. Punch finds an inexhaustible material. Dickens writes novels on Exeter-Hall humanity. Thackeray exposes the heartless high life. Nature revenges herself more summarily by the heathenism of the lower classes. Lord Shaftesbury calls the poor thieves together and reads sermons to them, and they call it ‘gas.’ George Borrow 19 summons the Gypsies to hear his discourse on the Hebrews in Egypt, and reads to them the Apostles’ Creed in Romany. “When I had concluded,” he says, “I looked around me. The features of the assembly were twisted, and the eyes of all turned upon me with a frightful squint; not an individual present but squinted; the genteel Pepa, the good-humored Chicharona, the Cosdami, all squinted; the Gypsy jockey squinted worst of all.”  23
  The church at this moment is much to be pitied. 20 She has nothing left but possession. If a bishop meets an intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogations in his eyes, he has no resource but to take wine with him. 21 False position introduces cant, perjury, simony and ever a lower class of mind and character into the clergy: and, when the hierarchy is afraid of science and education, afraid of piety, afraid of tradition and afraid of theology, there is nothing left but to quit a church which is no longer one. 22  24
  But the religion of England,—is it the Established Church? no; is it the sects? no; they are only perpetuations of some private man’s dissent, and are to the Established Church as cabs are to a coach, cheaper and more convenient, but really the same thing. Where dwells the religion? Tell me first where dwells electricity, or motion, or thought, or gesture. They do not dwell or stay at all. Electricity cannot be made fast, mortared up and ended, like London Monument or the Tower, so that you shall know where to find it, and keep it fixed, as the English do with their things, forevermore; it is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a newness, a surprise, a secret, which perplexes them and puts them out. 23 Yet, if religion be the doing of all good, and for its sake the suffering of all evil, souffrir de tout le monde, et ne faire souffrir personne, that divine secret has existed in England from the days of Alfred to those of Romilly, of Clarkson and of Florence Nightingale, and in thousands who have no fame.  25
Note 1. As he says elsewhere, he felt that the Briton was temperamentally a worshipper of Fate. As for “this mountain of stone,” he hoped that among the generation then rising in England would appear men who would, as he had done, remember Jesus’ word: “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” [back]
Note 2. To this thought before Dundee Church he adds in his notebook, “And at other times I say, If idealists will work as well as these men wrought, we shall see a new world apace.” [back]
Note 3. The contemporary monkish chronicler of the deeds of Richard Cœur de Lion in Palestine. It is included in Bohn’s Chronicles of the Crusades. [back]
Note 4. Wordsworth, note to “Ecclesiastical Sonnets,” XVIII. He also speaks of the Established clergy of England as being, in many parts, “the principal bulwark against barbarism.” [back]
Note 5. John Sterling, in a letter written to Mr. Emerson in 1841, speculates as to what kind of audiences he finds in America—audiences that must be very different from those in England. He says: “Here we have not only the same aggressive, material element as in the United States, but a second fact unknown there, namely, the social authority of Church Orthodoxy derived from the close connection between the Aristocracy (that is, the Rich) and the Clergy. And odd it is to see that, so far as appears on the surface, the last twenty-five years have produced more of this instead of less.” [Correspondence between John Sterling and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1897.] [back]
Note 6. Fuller’s Worthies of England. [back]
Note 7. Mr. Emerson notes that “Certain doctrines are offensive to their mind; for example, the metamorphosis or passage of souls. Englishmen hate it. It vexes the common sense.” The possibility that he might become a Frenchman or Spaniard might account for this fear. Swedenborg, Mr. Emerson mentions, found the English in a heaven apart. [back]
Note 8. From the notebook on England: “Four things they believe in, namely, Shakspeare’s genius, commerce, pit-coal, and the steam-engine.
  “English Church gets to be an enormous doll with old ladies of both sexes to dress and dandle it.” [back]
Note 9. Journal, 1848. “At the dinner of the Geological Club, I sat between Sir Henry De la Bèche and Lord Selkirk. When I remarked that I understood the accepted view of the creation of races to be, that many individuals appeared simultaneously, and not one pair only, Lord S. replied, that there is no geological fact which is at variance with the Mosaic history.” [back]
Note 10. Augustus Pugin, an Englishman of French descent, an admirable architectural draughtsman. He published in 1821 Specimens of Gothic Architecture selected from various ancient Edifices in England, and later, other important illustrated works of the same sort. [back]
Note 11. Thomas Taylor (1758–1835), a remarkable scholar and apostle of Plato and the Neoplatonists. He translated Aristotle, Plato, Proclus, Plotinus, Pausanius, Jamblichus, and Porphyry. Niebuhr in his Letters says of him, “Through a singular philosophical mysticism, derived from the Platonist, he became an orthodox polytheist and adherent of the mystical interpretation of the popular religion of the Greeks.” In his translation of the Cratylus Taylor calls Christianity “a certain most irrational and gigantic impiety.” [back]
Note 12. English notebook. “The English have no national religion and have imported the Hebrew.” [back]
Note 13. The Saracens are pressing the little force of the English Crusaders hard, and the battle seems going against them. Richard, having done his utmost, thus makes his argumentum ad Deum: “O God! O God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? For whom have we foolish Christians, for whom have we English come hither from the farthest part of the earth to bear our arms? Is it not for the God of the Christians? O fie! How good art Thou to the people who now are, for Thy name, given up to the sword: we shall become a portion for foxes. Oh how unwilling should I be to forsake Thee in so forlorn and dreadful a position, were I Thy Lord and Advocate as Thou art mine. In sooth my standards will in future be despised not through my fault, but through Thine; in sooth not through any cowardice in my warfare art Thou Thyself, my King and my God, conquered this day, and not Richard Thy vassal!” [back]
Note 14. In his sketch of the Rev. Dr. Ripley, in Lectures and Biographical Sketches, Mr. Emerson gives some amusing extracts from the diary of his great-grandfather, the Rev. Joseph Emerson of Malden, on his purchase of a “shay.” “The Lord grant it may be a comfort and blessing to my family,” says the good man, like Pepys. But accidents and misgivings of conscience, because he deemed these to be chastisements of the Lord for his pride, followed, and in six months he sold this vehicle of wrath, as Pepys would not have done. [back]
Note 15. Showing a survival of a trace of the spirit of the English of the twelfth century. The monk Richard of Devizes in his chronicle relates with delight that on the Coronation-day of King Richard, which happened to be on Good Friday, “About the self-same hour that the Son was immolated to the Father, a sacrifice of the Jews to their father the Devil began in all parts of the Kingdom;” and that they “despatched their blood-suckers with blood to hell.” [back]
Note 16. Mr. Emerson notes this list of the triumphs of English conscience and good sense over national conservatism, in the nineteenth century:—
  1826.  Catholic Emancipation.
1832.  Reform Bill.
1846.  Repeal of Corn Laws;
  Repeal of Navigation Laws.
1834.  West Indian Emancipation;
  Dissenters Chapels bill;
  Unitarians and Quakers in Parliament;
  Sugar duties abolished;
  Republics acknowledged.
  Mr. Pitt said in Parliament in 1780, that, “without a reform in Parliament, it was impossible for any honest man to remain a minister of England.” [back]
Note 17. John Sterling, a man of brilliant parts and noble character, who had been in his youth and while his health permitted a curate devoted to his people, soon found his growing spirit cramped by the creed of the Church of England. He went through an experience like Emerson’s, and they became close friends, through letters. Sterling wrote to his friend in December, 1841: “How remarkable it is that the critical and historical difficulties of the Bible were pointed out by clear-sighted English writers more than a century ago, and thence passed through Voltaire into the whole mind of Continental Europe, and yet that in this country both the facts and the books about them remain utterly unknown, except to a few recluses! The overthrow of our dead Biblical Dogmatism must, however, be preparing, and may be nearer than appears. The great curse is the wretched and seemingly hopeless pedantry of our Monastic Colleges at Oxford and Cambridge.” [Correspondence of Emerson and Sterling.]
  Six months later he writes more hopefully: “Thought is leaking into this country. Even Strauss sells.”
  About the time of Mr. Emerson’s first visit to England, Newman and Pusey had begun the Anglo-Catholic movement; ten years later Newman had formally retracted his charges against the Church of Rome, and in 1845 had joined that church, returning to England, during the time of Mr. Emerson’s second visit, to establish religious houses there. [back]
Note 18. Here are some further items from the English notebook:—
  “They punish dissent:—they punish education. So late as 1831, marriages performed by Dissenters were illegal, and the children of such marriages bastards. So late as 12 Geo. III., a Catholic priest who married a Catholic and Protestant was liable to the punishment of death; and later to a fine of £500. So late as 59 Geo. III., 23 June, 1819, trial by single combat was abolished.
  “‘Decent debility,’ said Sydney Smith of the clergy.” [back]
Note 19. George Borrow, the Englishman who lived and wandered with the Gypsies to study them, the author of The Zincali, Lavengro (partly autobiographical), and The Romany Rye. He was for a time in the employ of the British and Foreign Bible Society. [back]
Note 20. In conversation at a dinner-party where Mr. Emerson met him, “Macaulay said, he had arrested on its progress to be printed a bill for civilising and Christianising the natives of —— in Africa, appropriating —— thousand pounds, first for an expense of —— pounds for adjusting pipes, etc., on the paddle wheels of steamboat for squirting hot water on the natives,” etc.
  “A Unitarian,” he said, “will presently be shown as a Dodo,—an extinct race.” [back]
Note 21. In acknowledging English Traits, December 2, 1856, Carlyle wrote: “That Chapter on the Church is inimitable; ‘the Bishop asking a troublesome gentleman to take wine,’—you should see the kind of grin it awakens here on our best kind of faces. Excellent the manner of that, and the matter too dreadfully true in every part. I do not much seize your idea in regard to ‘Literature,’ though I do details of it, and will try again. Glad of that too even in its half state; not ‘sorry’ at any part of it,—you Sceptic!” [back]
Note 22. On his return home Mr. Emerson writes in his journal of the question of his wife: “Lidian asks if I saw the spiritual class. Oh no, I saw the ox and the ass, but rarely the driver.” [back]
Note 23. This thought of the passing of the Spirit, its newness, its surprise, is found again in the Poems in the last lines of “Woodnotes,” II., and in “Worship.” [back]

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